A Gift From The Gods
by Enchanted Supernovae
Summary: Seraphenia Zachariah was a dangerous addition to Hogwarts. The girl was American, quiet, and not the typical witch. All the more reason that attracted the wanted attention of Draco Malfoy. And the unwanted attention of Voldemort. 5TH year.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: The Daily Prophet**

**March 23****RD**

**Yesterday, the Wizarding world witnessed the worst tragedy upon us. At approximately 7:19 PM PST, Dwarfullton School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was attacked by what is assumed to be the work of Lord Voldemort and his army. The school's impeccable architecture crumbled to the ground taking five thousand lives with it. There has been no word on any survivors, staff and students included. The American Ministry of Magic has arrested anyone who might be involved with the attack. Minister of Magic Tara Zachariah's daughter is a fourth year student of Terry Turt House. She has yet to be found. It has been documented that most of the bodies have been buried underneath what remains of the school.**

**-John Jacob**

**March 24****TH **

**Authorities haven't found any remains of Dwarfullton. That includes bodies and material items. However, just this morning, it has been reported that the American Ministry of Magic has found a leak in their ministry. No names have been named of who the leak is. Minister Zachariah has put an order out on anyone involved in this attack to face the upmost punishment.**

**-Leslie Hughes**

**March 30****TH**

**The search continues for who could have done such a crime. We talked to Piper Parson of the A.M.M yesterday of how it could have happened.**

"**It doesn't make any sense for people to attack children. Because that's really what happened; children were attacked. The only reason that can be used is that there is a leak in the Ministry," Parson says. "The Dwarfullton was located in the Bermuda Triangle. It was put there for a reason."**

**-Marc Bogotá.**

**May 2****ND**

**Approximately three hundred and sixty five students have been found since the last body count. Minister Zachariah's daughter was found early yesterday morning in the worst of the attack. She is now on life support in Valley Hospital outside St. Valley. None of the heirs to the houses have been located. Most of the survivors talk about seeing death eaters related to Lord Voldemort's army and many of his unknown followers. Some we even can call friends.**

**-John Jacob.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone that R&R'd and all that other good stuff. :) I really appreciate the feedback. Keep it coming! Sorry it took so long to update, school has really been a pain in the booty since Christmas. But it should get easier to update as time goes on because of a sign I'm having: I haven't written 2010 on my papers since the New Year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I'm feeling a bit iffy about it but I know that it is a complete chapter for the time being. **

**And review, review, review!**

**P.S.: I had a bit of trouble creating a dark Draco. So if you have any advice that'd be great! :)**

**Chapter One: Interrogation, Immediate Isolation.**

We've been sitting in silence for the past ten minutes. Dumbledore folds his hands together on top of his desk. He gives me this look like he can see inside my head. Every thought I've ever had, memory, clear and open to him for the taking. It's that feeling, you know? After a terrible act of violence or something that has made an attempt to ruin your life, all you get from the world is the feeling of being interrogated.

Sayings like, 'How are you feeling?' 'Are you alright?' 'Do you want me to cook for you?' 'What do you remember?' 'Anything you want is yours, just say the words.' 'You aren't alone.' 'I'm here for you.' are all the same crap. Hearing that fifty times a day makes you want to break somebody's arm. And if you can't break bone, at least pull a muscle or two.

No answer I give is good enough to be the correct one and combative enough to be considered outrageously rude language. I have to be the perfect doll. Act as if I wasn't left for dead. It was all some twisted nightmare caused from drinking too much Firewhiskey the night before. Now I'm sitting in front of Dumbledore trying to not spontaneously combust right in front of him.

"Is there anything you remember from that night, Miss Zachariah? Anything that you may have remembered recently?" he asks.

Where to start? I remember it being worse than death itself. That's pretty powerful to say since death lasts forever.

It was a surprise attack. At least that's what the ministry played it as, and continues to do so. In the beginning, the first couple of weeks after, there were articles printed in The Daily Prophet, The St. Valley Times, and every other paper known to wizard, that it was the doing of that nut case Voldemort and his followers. Soon after, considering the few banishments it took to stop the publishing of anything Voldemort related, the articles disappeared faster than when they arrived. Interviews and quotes that witnesses had seen Death Eaters flying over St. Valley Square and the crumbling of the school from the town were labeled as unreliable sources. The papers had to print new articles saying that their quills had slipped and replaced the words 'moldy warts' for 'Voldemort'.

Now, all of a sudden, the school just decided to—to reconstruct after six hundred centuries of the same architecture? Oh, and Voldemort was hired as the interior designer? How many people could believe that boldfaced lie?

Dwarfullton School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the school for the United States. Located in the Bermuda Triangle, we were impossible to detect, even with the most powerful of locating spells. The ministry didn't fool around when making that decision. We were the top ranked school in the world for our Quidditch (count the snitches), perfect O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores, and overall tolerance of species diversity. Muggle borns and pure bloods got along with peace. Somewhat. Better than other schools that's for sure. That put a huge target on our back. Not too many people like the idea of 'staining the family purity'. How can a family be 'pure' when they hate everyone? Talk about an awkward dinner table.

The day of the attack, I was down at the beach. The water had been a perfect blue and the sand a fairytale white. Seagulls were flying by in the sky. In the morning, I had been searching for doubloons for a project for Muggle Studies that was due the next day. That afternoon, I had Coast Watch. Coast Watch is where two people watch the school's coasts in case of any danger from the watch wing floating above the school in the clouds. My partner had gone to the bathroom for no more than five minutes when I saw the strangest thing. A black skull with a snake coming out of its mouth forming itself in the sky. I thought nothing of it at the time. We didn't have Death Eaters in the U.S. so I thought it was some prank.

Oh how wrong I'd been.

I remember we were attacked on that night, March 22nd at 7:19 PM. I remember being in the Main Walk near the Mess Deck for dinner time. The deck was an open area near the front of the school that was shaped like a boat. It looked below to the Quidditch field. Front row seats to the greatest game on earth. I was a chaser up to my third year. But then I found my passion as a seeker in my fourth. I was extremely fast on a broom for an eleven year old. I made the American National Quidditch Team last year. The Patriots. I never got to play…but I did get my own trading card in chocolate frogs, an authentic Quidditch robe for whole sale, some posters, and wide distribution of the new Hurricane 850 broom with my signature on it. I even got to keep my unused uniform. Yay.

The deck was fitted to seat five thousand people. I remember my best friends Fran Kirikakis and Sabrina Greene dragging me by my hands to eat because I was so upset that I had gotten in trouble for mouthing off to Professor Jones again in herbology. It earned me a months worth of probation. No trips to St. Valley, no Quidditch, and cleaning up dirty classrooms. I remember the hot spring air hitting my face like fire and the wind quickly cooling me down like ice.

I remember my boyfriend Jack Sullivan. He was the heir to Calvin Cromp house. Merlin, how his smile could light up a room. He was the perfect golden boy. Star Quidditch player, excelled in academics, always nice to the first years, not a mean bone in his body. We were on our way.

I remember eating squid tentacles, whale blubber, and a cup of Sea Fizz. I sat down with friends. Muggle borns and purebloods together; like it should be. I remember laughing at a cheesy joke Sabrina said. I remember hearing a scream not to long after. Not just any scream but an insanely ear splitting scream from a girl. It came from the Main Walk. The full and now quiet deck turned to the double door entrance. I remember one of my dorm mates, Spring Lyle, falling through the doors, covered in her blood. It was gushing from her stomach and mouth. The girl could barley stand. The room erupted in a panic.

"He's here!" she screamed. Everyone turned to Headmaster Twill for the evacuation drill.

That's when the first strike was made. And I knew what Spring Lyle, the girl that gossiped like fish drink water, was telling the truth. And this time I didn't have to question her for more information. I was so mad at myself for not reporting what I saw on Coast Watch. I was so stupid. How could I have not have recognized his calling? The floor of the deck blew into a thousand pieces taking the students unaware with it.

I remember seeing figures dressed in all black robes with a mask on their faces shoot the killing curse from their wands. And a woman doing the same. She had the craziest, almost sadistic expression on her face. It was like she was enjoying killing because she did it for a living. People were falling all around me. Suddenly, a man with a wolf like face appeared in front of me and growled. He grabbed my arm. I pushed against him, ripping my sleeve. His nails ripped my skin away. He lifted his fingers to his nose and sniffed my blood. He lunged at me again and I pulled my arm back and swatted it forward, sending him flying backwards through the air at top speed. I was always particularly fond of wandless magic.

I saw a second explosion with red smoke come from one of the house towers across the Quidditch field. The tower crumbled to the ocean below. I heard the alarm going off signaling to St. Valley Square that we were under attack and to send help. The emergency sparks flew in the air. I remember grabbing Fran and Sabrina's hands in one of mine because Jack had his in my other. He pulled us pass the gapping hole in the floor of the deck loaded with screaming friends of mine. Jack pulled us into the Main Walk. I felt my hand lose grip on both Sabrina and Fran's hands. I screamed when I saw them fell into the hole. Jack grabbed me around my waist to get me out of there because I was too stupid to let go of the door handle.

I remember Jack's hand lose mine in the thick crowd. Then I heard the rushing sound of a river. I had turned around for a quick second to see a wave of water from the ocean crash through the Main Walk. Everyone was running around frantically, trying to get away from the dark figures in cloaks and masks and the water trying to drown them. I saw the floor crack at my feet. Then I saw his face. His pale, grey, ruthless face. He looked right through me. I could sense in my bones that he knew who I was. _What_ I was. My very soul had been violated. He sucked the life out of me. And he just stared. That's when I ran. I ran for my life down the Main Walk until I reached the staircase at the end to get to higher ground. I kept running and running until I couldn't describe where the hell I was. I was alone. In the dark. With a killer murdering my friends.

The new space I was in was broken. Bodies layered the ground underneath rocks. Blood was everywhere. The ground was slanted at an angle. Water was rising fast. My clothes were soaked. I remember taking my pixie, Pip, out of my pocket, because I had stupidly left my wand on my bed. Pip illuminated the corridor. There was no one for what I could see. She landed on my shoulder with her wings buzzing in my ear. I remember him coming out of the darkness. His wand pointing at me violently.

"CRUCIO!"

I ducked behind a broken pillar near the worse of where the bodies were. The broken stones scraped against my knees. I bit my lip to stop the pain. Water trickled slowly onto the floor from the ceiling. The school was sinking. I moved quietly to the other side to see where he was. I saw nothing. I signaled Pip to go fly to town to go get help. I watched her zoom out of a window in the reflection of the broken glass beneath it. I saw him slither away before he reappeared again.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

I crouched down again before I poofed and reappeared down the corridor. "Incendio!" I shouted. The hall erupted in flames around us. It was against the law for schools to teach dark magic to students, even if it was solely for defense purposes. For times such as these. Dwarfullton didn't agree with that rule in particular. "Fiendfyre!" I shouted out. The fire cursed itself into a dragon. It wasn't very difficult to control. Practice makes perfect. I sent the dragon into attack. He put it out with a giant ball of water. I should have stayed hidden. I was running out of options. So I decided to give him his own medicine.

"Avada Kedavra!" I yell. It didn't matter to me if I got in trouble or not with the ministry. This was my life. I watched the darkest of the unforgivables hit him in the shoulder. He stumbled back a bit before he noticed what I had done. His eyes shot at me white with fury.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he yelled back.

I should have let it hit me. I should have let it kill me. But I reacted on instinct. I knew I couldn't outrun an unforgivable and no spell could fully counter act its effects, especially the killing curse. I did what I had to do. I raised my hand and repelled the dark magic back to its owner. The curse floated around in a ball of red light between us. I threw it back at him and missed.

The last thing I remember from that moment was feeling the ground break below me. I watched him as I fell into an unknown oblivion.

I remember waking up at St. Valley Hospital in the middle of June. I hadn't been found until May 1st. I was in a coma for all of April in a hospital and possibly when I was withering away next to rotting bodies. I had been presumed dead for forty days and barley alive for a given total of at least seventy-five days.

Only three hundred and sixty five students remained of our five thousand person occupation. They were either missing, dead, or their bodies were too damaged to be identified. Never had I ever felt truly alone.

Sabrina, Fran, and Jack were never found. I remember, for days, weeks, and now months, the magical world printing every kind of article about the Dwarfullton Attack, about my mother, and about me. How Death Eaters were becoming a virus. How it could have been prevented. I remember having to do interview after futile interview because I was the Minister of Magic's daughter. Then they all stopped mentioning Voldemort. My mother told me to not say a single thing about him again ever again. To lie that he wasn't there and that he didn't try to kill me one on one.

I remember getting the awful looks from strangers. A man and his child gave me a look you would give dog shit. A woman shooed her family away from me when I walked in St. Valley Square. I had Sea Fizz thrown in my face. I was called a liar. I felt more disgusting than they thought I was. I'd rather have them look at me with a pity because it was their morals. What gave them the right to think of me that way? What did I do? He attacked me god damn it!

I remember my mother telling me that I had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The only one from my school. Each other survivor was sent to a different school for discretion. They wanted us to blend in. Blend in? How am I supposed to 'blend in' when everyone stares at me without saying a word? Keeps away from me like a disease? When had I become the enemy?

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't remember anything from that night. The memories don't come out in order to me and definitely not coherent," I lie to Dumbledore.

Today is September 1st. I remember waiting for the train to take me to Hogwarts at platform 9 ¾ this morning. So different from how we got to Dwarfullton. Back home we traveled by hot air balloon. I remember sitting alone in a compartment on the train near the back. I read one of my favorite muggle books, Vanity Fair. I remember getting off last because I didn't want the constant stares and ogling. I remember finding the last of the carriages in the woods. They were pulled by Thestrals. I guess that either determines that I've seen death or that I'm crazy.

Seeing Hogwarts for the first time was strange. It resembles nothing to Dwarfullton. More medieval renaissance castle like where Dwarfullton was designed like a golden palace. We lived in a utopian society. It gave me the feeling of being untouchable; perfection; safe.

I remember my feet touching the inside grounds of Hogwarts. I didn't see anybody else around because they've all gone in the school. I remember thinking about just leaving and telling my mother that I wasn't ready to face the world again. And that she can kiss my ass. But…then I would get coal for Christmas so that plan was out. A woman wearing a long dress dark green dress robes came toward me. Her dark blonde hair was done up in a twisted bun on top of her head. She smiled. The first friendly face I've seen in a long time.

"I must only assume that you are Seraphenia Zachariah?" she asked. Wow. The British are polite. Or maybe she just hasn't realized that I've come in contact with Lord V and I'm carrying a rare case of cooties.

"Never assume. It makes an ass out of you and me," I said. She furrowed her eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes. "Muggles."

"Oh. You'll have to teach it to me sometime," she said laughing. "And watch your language."

It's strange having an actual person talking to me like I'm not dirt. Once someone has talked to you like you are dirt, when someone is not, it feels like a new experience.

"Welcome to Hogwarts Miss Zachariah. I am Professor McGonagall and the head of Gryffindor House. I hope your trip here was well."

"It was okay. Thank you for the…" I look around again. It is only us out here. The cold breeze has an eerie presence. "Hospitality."

"I hope you enjoy your stay. Come along now, we need to get you situated."

I remember her leading me into the school and I followed her through corridors and up a long winding staircase to a wooden door. She opened the door with a loud creak. I found five people staring at me including McGonagall. A man with long white hair and a thundering presence sat behind a desk. He smiled at me kindly. There was a man with black hair and a permanent frown, a woman who looked too similar to a nun, and another man that looked cripple gave me the stink eye and so did his cat.

I remember thinking, 'What a bright bunch these people are'.

"That's alright. Let me introduce you to the people behind you." Dumbledore points to the woman that has the nun wear on. "That is Madame Pomfrey the healer here at Hogwarts. Next to her is Professor Snape. And that is Argus Filch our caretaker. And of course you've already met Professor Minerva McGonagall."

I turn to face them all. Snape doesn't appear to be that friendly, Filch the Cripple is staring me down like I've stolen the last butterbeer, Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall both give me maternal gestures.

I sigh, face Dumbledore and sit nervously in the soft leather chair in front of his desk. I twiddle my thumbs back and forth in my lap silently. I wish I knew what they were thinking. What their initial impression of me was when I walked in here. Is she crazy? Is it true about the rumors?

Dumbledore summons a cup of tea to his side. The spoon is spinning swiftly in the dark liquid. It smells horrid. I can name that smell anywhere. Dogs breathe, sewer water, rotten eggs, a baby's diaper, vomit, and sweat. Black Beard's Tea. It tastes delicious. Only found in St. Valley Square.

"That's Black Beard Tea. Isn't it?" I ask him. He smiles proudly.

"A friend gave it to me a while ago. He was visiting St. Valley Square. Which is quite beautiful by the way, Diagon Alley should take some notes, not nearly as organized. Would you like a sip dear?"

"Yes, please. Diagon Alley is lovely. I find it very entertaining." I can tell that he is trying to make me feel better.

A small tea cup floats to my hands. I'm hypnotized by its darkness. A feeling of dread overwhelms me. I miss my friends, my family. This is my entire fault. I know what_ he_ wants. What he wants it for. I've known for months. And I kept it to myself. I won't do it. I'd rather die first before unleashing that kind of evil. He's crazy to go after something of that caliber of danger.

I look into my tea. The liquid moves in the cup. Dancing. Strange. I look more closely. The tea clumps together and sticks to the porcelain. In the shape of a face. _His _face. The darkness in his eyes is so real. It's like he's in this very room. I gasp and throw the cup.

"Get that thing away from me!" I scream. My hands grip the edge of the chair. I can feel my knuckles through my skin. In my mind I can see his face. He won't go away. "Make it stop!" I cover my eyes with my hands hard.

_I'm coming for you. I won't be stopped._

I scream at his words. "Make him stop! Please!" I can see him. Laughing as he killed my friends. Tortured them endlessly until they gave up all the hope they had left. "Get out of my head!"

Soft arms enclose me in a strong hug. I open my eyes to see McGonagall holding me. She strokes my hair. I hold onto her tightly. "Dumbledore! She's been through enough already!" she yells at him. "It's alright. No one is going to hurt you," she whispers to me. I want to believe this but I can't. It is a lie. I dare to look at Dumbledore. I hide my face.

"You remember everything don't you?" he asks.

I nod.

"It wasn't your fault. It was him and him alone. You need to start thinking that mentality Seraphenia. I won't let him near you. Ever. You are safe while I am here. And I'm not going anywhere." Dumbledore's voice calms me down, but only a bit. He waves at the others. "I'll take it from here."

I can sense McGonagall is reluctant to let go of me. But she does. Professor Snape leaves the room first followed by Filch and then Madame Pomfrey. McGonagall says, "I'll be waiting for you outside." She leaves the room leaving me.

Dumbledore stares at me strangely. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I had no idea your connection with him was that strong," he says.

"I have no connection with that flat faced freak. I'm not a killer," I say angry.

"But you know what he was looking for; because of what you are."

"I've known for months. It's not something I'm proud of. Not telling anyone of what I know. Do you know anything?"

"For the most part I am up to date with his actions."

My father's name is Klaus Zachariah. He is head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the A.M.M. He is also working on the magical rights for more creatures. His new thing right now is the protection of Centaurs. My father is a demigod. It's not something that my parents wish to share with the whole world. He can pass as a wizard for the most part, wand and all. In the last year, having god blood or any relation to gods has been more dangerous than being a so called 'mudblood'. More dangerous than that is being half demigod and half wizard. Which is what I am. We are all treated like dirt. The new name for half demigod and half wizard is muttling, courtesy to the ministry. Supposedly we are an abomination to magical society. So much, that The Daily Prophet actually published a list from the ministry of a new ranking system. Strongly encouraging other countries to print the list for their own 'protection'.

#1. Purebloods.

#2. Half-bloods.

#3. Beings.

#4. Mudbloods.

#5. Muggles.

#6. Demigods.

#7. Muttlings.

Technically I'm still considered a Half-blood because my mother is a pureblood and having both god and wizard blood isn't recognized in the ministry yet. Demigods and half-bloods like me are disappearing on a daily basis. Purebloods are willingly giving over information about our hidden locations.

"The connection that you have with him is when you are reminded of the incident. He can't reach you through any other means. Miss Zachariah we both know why he was there. I understand your position," Dumbledore says.

I blink back tears in my eyes threatening to overflow. "If I told you, you'd want me to leave. I'm a hazard being here."

"No one is turned away here."

"…My father is a descendent of a god, you know, a demigod. His father is Zeus. We keep that to ourselves. It would put our family in danger. My mother would be voted out of the ministry in a heartbeat. People like me…this is a dire time. We're being hunted down like animals. Do you know how many of my cousins are hostages of that physco? Someone in my mother's ministry must have informed Voldemort that a demigod was at Dwarfullton. He didn't know it was the minister's daughter until the attack."

"It is not uncommon for people like you to face scrutiny. There is still hope; you can't lose sight of the end of this. You're not alone. Demigods mixed with wizard blood, I know a few myself. How did he find out it was you specifically?"

"We fought. We both used dark magic. He fired the killing curse at me and I repelled it. My father taught it to me to defend myself if I was ever outnumbered. He kind of predicted something like this a while ago. He never wanted me to become involved in this, but I insisted he teach me everything he knew. I pieced it all together a couple of months ago. My father told me that he was told by a son of Poseidon that Voldemort was trying to find the Horcruxes used by the gods. I found out two weeks before the attack that he had all three in his possession. Voldemort was going to rip apart Dwarfullton no matter what…but finding out I was there was icing on the cake. I'm willing to fight, Dumbledore. Demigods are trained for wars like this. I'm not scared of death nor am I scared to take him on."

"This is more than fighting, Miss Zachariah. This is only step one for him. I am not willing to put you in that kind of danger. It shouldn't be you that's fighting." Dumbledore folds his hands in his lap.

"You don't understand."

"Then help me to."

I sigh and reach into my pocket to take out a small book. I set it on the table. I take out my wand and point it at the book. "Engorgio," I command. The book grows back to its normal size. The Book Goliath is a book that just about every demigod owns. It goes back to roman times. It has stories in it for children, but most importantly it contains spells for gods, creature descriptions, and prophecies. I search through the old pages for The Three Orbs.

"What type of wand do you have?" Dumbledore touches my wand on the desk.

"Killer whale bone and conch shell. Seventeen inch," I say as I turn another page. I find the story on a page that's been through hell. I turn the book to Dumbledore and point it out to him. "That's the story. Sorry the page is so filthy. I don't know if you know this but Horcruxes weren't always used as evil forms of dark magic. They were for keeping the peace. Protecting the mortals, as ironic as it sounds."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"I hope you know that by telling you this I've broken a Vow of Conduct. A law of secrecy for the gods."

"I'm sure they will accept you apology. Now explain."

"The original Horcruxes were made by the gods to control magic during roman times. There were three. Now, he already has them in that smelly robe of his. What he's looking for now is a demigod or a muttling to unlock them."

"Were?"

"The gods destroyed the Horcruxes in thirteen B.C. But Hades resurrected them and we all know how Hades can be when he has his eye set on something…weird fellow, I say. Other than Hades, only the most evil and sinister could be able to reach it. They didn't think anyone like Voldemort would come along and actually survive this long. The story is that the gods were having a war with each other. In order to protect themselves, they gave some of their powers to humans down on earth. That's why there are wizards."

"Astonishing. Why don't wizards know this?"

"There was a danger that they might ask for more powers. The first wizards didn't but you know how it goes, problems always root somewhere. They became too powerful. The gods had to intervene. That's why they created Horcruxes. They put the most dangerous wizards' souls inside and sealed it shut with a curse and a prophecy to unlock it. The prophecy is that when a wizard became too powerful, the curse from the Horcrux would implant in their mind that they needed to go search for it. Once all three were found, the wizard would use a pure soul as a sacrifice to unlock them. Once the Horcrux is open, the pure soul would be made as an exchange for the powers inside. Voldemort could use a muggle or a wizard with a pure soul but it wouldn't be enough power to keep the Horcrux open long enough to get what is inside. Demigods have the same blood from the gods that created them as do muttlings. However, he would also be sucked inside the Horcruxes. His body wouldn't be able to handle that much power. Immediate death. It works like a temptation. He hasn't found a pure soul so we still have a bit of time. Most sacrifices were said not to be able to live through the first or second opening, no matter what their blood status is."

"Can the sacrifice be saved?"

"Not that I know of, no. The sacrifice is used to keep the Horcrux shut. That is until the next evil comes along. Once that happens…and who knows when that will be, the sacrifice is just…dead. Sent to heaven I guess. A new sacrifice takes the old one's place. Once the exchange begins, it's hard to stop. Sometimes the gods intervene with the exchange. It's only happened once before. Umm…" I move my hair off of my forehead and show him the barley-there mark in my skin.

"Demigods are born with a mark. It varies from god to god. Mine is a lightening bolt. It works kind of like a second sense. It glows every once in a while and it can hurt at times. Oh and…" I roll up my sleeve to reveal my grandfather's sign of Jupiter on my arm. Two staffs connected at the ends, also hardly visable. "This is the sign that we are direct decedents. Nothing to much with that." I take out the necklace from around my neck. It was a gift from the big man himself when I was born. It's a round silver locket with a mountain surrounded by clouds on it. "It might look like a regular locket but for Demigods it holds our souls. This is how Voldemort gets them to hand over their souls for the sacrifice. It can only be opened if the participant is willingly. And of course they hand it over because they want to end the violence or save a loved one…it's funny because…for the longest time this was all a myth. A silly story to tell children to get them to go to bed."

"You mean to tell me that this can…ultimately kill him? No matter what, he will die." The underlying tone in Dumbledore's voice frightens me. I just shared all of our secrets. I broke more than one vow. This puts me at risk.

"It depends. How many Horcruxes does he have?"

"Too many." Dumbledore takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes.

I point my wand at the book, "Reducio." I put the tiny book back in my pocket.

"You're lucky to be alive. Not many live to tell the tale," he says. Dumbledore takes out a stack of parchment from a drawer and lays it on his desk. "I don't want you to worry about any more of this nonsense. Now on to your academics. They are extremely beyond fifth year expectations. You've taken your O.W.L.s in your third year and your N.E.W.T in your fourth. Passing with flying colors." The surprise in his voice is evident.

"It was supposed to be preparation for the real thing but…Headmaster Twill thought I was ready. He wouldn't have done so if he was not sure." Flying colors isn't going to bring my friends back. Flying colors isn't going to undo what happened. Why? I ask myself that everyday. Why? Why did I leave my wand in the dorm? I probably would have been dead if I had my wand. I wouldn't have reacted as quickly. Why did I have to run from the Main Walk? What hurts the most is that I feel that I could have protected them. Why didn't I say anything about that stupid dark mark?

The room becomes hazy and begins to spin. I just want to get out of here. "Listen…letting you know all of this is a risk. I need to know I have some kind of reassurance. Do I have your word?" I ask.

Dumbledore seems taken aback by what I said. He leans forward. "Miss Zachariah I do not want you to think that—"

"I know Professor. But…right now there are only so many people you can get their word."

"Yes. You have my word."

I let out a breath of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Trust is a big issue with me. It's getting more difficult to identify who is truly going to support you and who isn't. I cover my forehead back up, roll my sleeve back down, and put my necklace back in underneath my clothes. "Is that all you need from me?"

"Yes dear. You may go," he says.

"Sure, thank you Professor."

He waves me goodbye. I walk over to the door and open it to find a black wall blocking my way. I notice a pale hand wrapped around a cane that has a silver snake's head for a handle. Where have I seen that before? I raise my head to face the coldest human being I've ever seen. No expression, well, if you count that he looks like he smells a very foul odor. White blonde hair gelled in place. His cold grey eyes pierce my skin with more than just daggers. It's like they're speaking something. I inhale sharply.

"Excuse me," I say nervously.

He clears his throat. "You must be Minister Zachariah's daughter. I'm Lucius Malfoy. Welcome to England. Your mother is doing wonders to the system. So sorry about what happened. I truly hope you make Hogwarts your new home," he says. What a liar. I can taste the malice radiating off of him in my spit. He doesn't give a damn about me and making Hogwarts my home. This man…something about him doesn't sit right with me.

"I hope so too. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course."

He steps aside creating a path for me. I walk through the door way. My foot catches on what I'm thinking is his cane. And not on accident either. I gasp seeing the floor hurdling toward me. I land against a strong object. I feel two arms hold me tightly in place. I hold on to them to keep from falling. I look up to see warm, soft, pale grey eyes looking back at me. He has the same white blonde hair as that ass hole Lucius but in a shorter style with bangs on his forehead. He sets me up on my feet. He wears a tailored to the tee black suit with a black shirt. I blush.

"Sorry for, um, bumping into you," I say. I can feel the pit of my stomach drop endlessly. My hands begin to shake.

"You should watch where you're going. I might not be there to catch you next time," he answers. His voice sounds heavenly. His gaze doesn't leave mine and he smiles at me. "You're new around here aren't you?"

"Can you tell?"

"Yeah, I would have remembered you." He puts up his hand. "My name's Draco Malfoy."

I take my arm from behind my back and shake his hand. "Charmed. I'm—"

"Draco! We don't have time to waste!" Lucius' voice rings from inside Dumbledore's office. Draco jumps a bit at the tone. I guess the evil bastard that tripped me is his father. Draco simply nods in my direction and goes into the office without saying any other words to me. The door slams shut in my face.

"Are you ready to go?" McGonagall places her warm hand on my upper arm.

My feet don't move from the spot but I answer, "Yes."

She leads me down the stairs away from the office while mentally I haven't left.

**Draco's POV**

I watch her leave with McGonagall. She was like a breath of fresh air in this mediocre school. And then I think about what happened to her. There is no doubt in my mind that she studied at Dwarfullton. She had on blue sweater vest with a white shirt underneath. A striped blue and orange tie around was around her delicate neck. Her skirt was orange and on her legs were black knee high socks. Exposing a bit of skin on her thighs. I'm not complaining.

I walk into Dumbledore's office. Father is sitting down in the vacant chair across from Dumbledore.

"Draco. Sit down. We have private matters to discuss here," my father says. I pull out the seat next to him and sit. "Who was _that girl_ you were talking to outside? You know you don't associate with low-life half bloods. Especially with those filthy blood traitor Americans. Get your mind out of the gutter."

_That girl _was the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Her eyes were the first thing that caught my attention. They were a crystal clear bright blue, with tiny specks of purple. Dark thick lashes adorned those eyes. Her sun kissed skin looked so soft I fought the urge to reach out and stroke my fingers across the surface. Her lips were a pale rose with a natural pout. Freckles speckled across her nose. A curtain of raven black hair fell down to her waist in untamed curls.

I reach into my pocket to take out a tiny vile that stupid Pansy gave to me on the train. She didn't tell me what it was, only that her mother told her to give it to me. That woman is a crazy bitch, I know because I've met her. I unscrew the lid and take a sniff. Amortentia. That woman has been trying to make me fall for Pansy since third year.

I smell a mixture of the ocean, warm cinnamon, and lilac. Pansy smells nothing like this. I put the vile back in my pocket. Father glares at me violently. I hate him. And then I think about that girl again…and how my father destroyed her home. What a sick bastard. He disgusts me. This is the man I'm supposed to look up to? To learn from? He treats my mother like shit. Me like shit. Others like shit. The only person who he doesn't treat like shit is the dark lord and he takes shit from him. What gives him the right to dictate who lives and who dies?

And he wants to drag me into his fucking mess. Fuck. Doesn't he see that that crazy man he has shacked up in our house for ninety minutes every two weeks is going to kill us all? Because I sure can. And I will be dammed before I die for any person on earth. No way in bloody fucking hell am I giving up air for someone who doesn't have half a nose. Fuck that. And he constantly shoves his hypocritical views down my throat. 'Mudblood this, half-blood that, elf, now he's moved on to harassing muttlings. He made me watch a memory of his when he invaded an underground cave of them. He tortured them for what seemed like forever. He made the children watch as he killed their parents. It disgusted me to the point where I had thrown up the contents of my stomach ten times worse than any other memory he showed me.

I overheard him and mother arguing about how I was too weak to fulfill the Dark Lord's duties. She was defending me. Begging him to get through his head that I wasn't ready for something like dealing with Voldemort. I saw him hit her across the cheek when she didn't listen to his orders. If I had it my way he'd be dead. They'd all be dead. I'm long past caring for this filth of a man sitting next to me.

_I lean down in my chair. I look with disgust in my veins at my father. He has that sick smile on his face along with the others. I know what they've done, where they've been. It's not like they're trying hard to keep it secret. Greyback held up a piece of a ripped shirt. A trophy to keep for himself. _

"_Lucis! You never did explain how you got the A.M.M. to reveal where the school was!" that crazy bitch Bellatrix yells. I hate her. I hate every single one of them. They should rot in hell. Oh, the things I wish I could do to her. Kill her. Torture her. Let her know how it felt for once. Watch her grovel in pain as she begged for death._

"_Turns out the A.M.M. don't hesitate when selling out their own people. Ignorant fools. Zachariah needs to check her friends again," my father says. "I also found out this. Not only do they accept inter blood relationships, there was a demigod going to school there. Guess whose child it is? The minister's."_

"_I suspect you already know what that means, Lucius?"_

_That sneaky voice laced with poison came out of nowhere. Voldemort sits down at the table with that stupid snake of his climbing on top. He looks between us on either side of him. "I saw the Zachariah girl with my own eyes. She is the key."_

"_She's no use to us now. She's probably dead by now!" Bellatrix shouts. I didn't want the girl to die. Why should she have to die?_

"_Hold on Bellatrix. The Zachariah girl is a half-blood. Her father is a demigod. We fought with equal skill. She managed to hit me with the killing curse. Wandlessly. I performed it back on her. And you know what she does? The girl repels it! I've never seen that much power in all my years before. I did not harm her. Not a scratch on her body was caused by that curse. It is time."_

"Draco have you been paying attention at all? It is time to go."

I turn to my father who is scowling at me. I wish I could curse that smirk right off his face. "Yes father," I obediently. Rising from my chair, I follow my father out of Dumbledore's office.

"Stay away from that girl, Draco. The Dark Lord has other plans for her. And for you," he says.

**Seraphenia's POV**

I watch the new first years curiously as they go through their sorting. Hogwarts only uses a hat for this? At Dwarfullton, we had to do tasks and after they were completed we were put into the houses that suited us the most. I was in Turt. Terry Turt House was for the fearless. Not much as for bravery, but never backing down from a challenge, most of them being ridiculously stupid. Our colors were bright orange and teal and our symbol was a snapping turtle. We were rivals with Regina Rodis House. If you were in Rodis, you were a slimy son of a bitch. Cromp House and Dolin were if you were either really smart or very snobbish. Jack was in Cromp only because he was the heir. He was neither of those things. Taking a sip of my pumpkin juice, I set my eyes in search for a certain someone. I haven't stopped thinking about falling into his arms earlier today. He had the most mesmerizing eyes. Who knew silver could be so…dashing? And he was so nice to me. Thinking about it again gives me tingles.

"Your mother is one of the greatest ministers the world has ever seen. I for one know she is very proud of you and your achievements Seraphenia. I'm Dolores Umbridge."

I turn to my left to see the strangest little woman sitting next to me. Where had she come from? Her dress is a way to bright pink, the hat on her head is even more atrocious than the dress, and her make-up is clown like. The creepiest smile forms on her face. Her hand is sticking out for me to shake.

"Thank you," I say. I go back to eating my pasta ignoring her pushy attitude towards shaking my hand.

"However, I would recommend that she change some of her policies that she has. Centaurs don't need their own rights! How can a savage speak for itself?" the woman laughs.

"Excuse me, but I happen to think Centaurs deserve every right under the sun as much as we do. And I damn well believe that my mother's policies don't need to be tampered with," I look down at her hands. The woman's hands are wrinkly and at that stage of decomposition in youth. "Especially from someone who is persistently nosy," I finish.

The woman grips my arm pushing her sharp pink nails in my skin. "You do not speak to your Professors in that tone!"

She gets frazzled easily. This will be fun. "As of right now, you are not my professor. I suggest you get your hands off me. I don't think my mother would appreciate it when she finds out that you out your hands on me. She isn't afraid to use her wand for unmentionable purposes and neither am I."

Umbridge lets go off my hand with a 'humph'. Once the first years are settled, Dumbledore approaches his podium. "I and your professors would like to welcome you all back to another year at Hogwarts. We also wish to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge," Dumbledore says. The room begins with whispers. The hag sitting next to me makes a hiccupping noise from her mouth. I look at her. Her face is the sweetest of smiles and her posture is inviting. She cannot be serious? "And I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing the professor good luck."

I certainly won't. "Now as usual our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you—"

The hag makes that noise again. I grip my fork in my hand angrily. I feel the metal heat up in my skin. I drop it fast, letting it clatter on the plate. I look at my palm. A line of burnt skin sears itself a grave on my hand. I touch it lightly. The bloody patch slowly heals back to normal. As if nothing had been burnt…hmm? That's never happened before.

When I look up Umbridge is putting her purse on the table and stepping around to the front. "Thank you, headmaster, for those kind words of welcome," she says. Umbridge stands in front of Dumbledore. He looks back at McGonagall who is sitting next to me.

"Well, she's a real piece of work," I say to McGonagall.

"You have no idea," I hear from her in response.

"And how lovely, to see all of your bright, happy faces, smiling up at me. I'm sure we'll all going to be very. Good. Friends," Umbridge continues. What a joke that is. I don't know why, but I have the faintest feeling telling me not to trust a thing she says.

'_Don't trust her. Use your wisdom.' _It says to me. The voice is familiar; I've heard it all my life. I just don't know whose mouth it belongs too. I'm definitely not the one making the decisions. A bit of laughter comes from the Gryffindor.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this…historic school," Umbridge nods at Dumbledore. He nods back out of common courtesy. I wonder what he's thinking right now. Probably the same as I am. That she's a crazy bit— "progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, prefect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be…prohibited."

She makes the noise again and walks back over to her seat next to me. "Thank you Professor Umbridge. That was most illuminating," Dumbledore says. I snort. Dumbledore turns to me. I slide down in my seat. Dumbledore goes back to his speech.

Sitting up here with the professors and the hag sitting next to me, everyone has obviously noticed me and how I don't fit in this picture they're trying to create. The Gryffindors look very friendly. They've given me small smiles and waves throughout dinner. The Slytherins are all giving me the death stare. Not in the least bit surprising. One in particular makes my heart skip more than one beat and my blood warm my cheeks. Draco Malfoy. His skin shines in the candle light. His silver grey eyes lock me in place. His eyes are pouring out in emotions. Who knew silver could be so enchanting? It's like he can't pinpoint what he's feeling and if he can he doesn't like it. Well I can't either, so we're even. The dark skinned boy next to him smirks at me. Oh god. Blaise Zabini.

Blaise looks at me, turns to Draco, and looks back to me. He tells him something only he can hear. A girl sitting across from them sends me venom in her stare. She grabs my savior's hands possessively in hers. Draco frowns at her, shakes his head like he's having epilepsy, and turns his attention back toward me. His eyes are pleading now. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear shyly. He's very handsome isn't he?

"Miss Zachariah? Are you ready?" Dumbledore asks me. I stand from my chair, trying to be confident, when I'm falling to pieces on the inside. I need to be strong. I can't let what happened hold me back. The whole room quiets. I walk past Umbridge to stand in front of Dumbledore. "You may or may not have noticed a new face sitting next to Professor McGonagall this evening," he begins again. Everyone is looking in my direction now. I breathe in slowly to contain my nerves. God, how many people are in this room? "You also might notice she looks different from you. Her uniform is from Turt House in the America. I'm sure you are all familiar with the Dwarfullton Attack back in the spring."

Whispers erupt again. My breathing picks up. I smooth the invisible crease on my teal skirt. "I introduce to you, Miss Seraphenia Zachariah. She is one of the survivors from that horrific night. You might also recognize her as being Minister Zachariah's daughter and the seeker for the United States National Quidditch Team. Miss Zachariah will be finishing her schooling with us here at Hogwarts. I hope you all give her a warm welcome and a most pleasant stay."

"IS IT TRUE THAT YOU'VE SEEN VOLDEMORT?" someone shouts from Slytherin. Of course he and his stupid friends laugh.

"MY MOTHER SAID THAT YOU'RE A LIAR!"

"MUGGLE LOVER!"

"BLOOD TRAITOR!"

"OH MY GOD! I LOVE YOU! I HAVE ALL YOUR TRADING CARDS!"

"CAN YOU SIGN MY BROOM?"

I don't want to cry. I don't want to cry. I don't want to cry. Dumbledore pulls out the chair for sorting. I sit down feeling more broken than ever. I just want this day to be over. I peak back over to 'Draco'. He's tapping his hand on the table. I feel the hat on my head.

"Interesting…very interesting. A half-blood. Your mother is from the Caine family. Pureblood until you," the sorting hat says. I can feel myself shake. Stupid hat. "What is your father? Not a muggle…hmmm…you are very wise and smart beyond your years. A little too wise and smart, perhaps. Turt was for the fearless…hmmm…but you can also be conniving and very sneaky. You'd do wonderful in Slytherin…but your loyalty outweighs it all…GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindors cheer, why wouldn't they, they've got a new addition to their house. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs cheer because they are trying to be polite and ignore the comments from earlier. I don't expect anything from Slytherin. Unless you count rude looks for cheering, then they cheered a lot. One boy is making an hourglass figure with his hands. Draco turns his head at that same moment. I don't know what kind of evil snare he gave the boy, but it sure did shut him up. Another one was licking his banana from the sundae. Blaise winks at me. I grimace. Draco's eyes haven't left mine yet. I can feel shivers creep up my body again. I don't want to look. I do. Against my better judgment if I may add. His stare is lifeless. His upper lip curls upward like he wants to growl. I bite my lip. Can't Dumbledore see I'm uncomfortable? Why couldn't we do this at his office earlier today?

"Miss Zachariah? You can join your house now," McGonagall says. She ushers me out the seat. I rub my clammy hands on the wool of my skirt again. An Indian girl smiles brightly at me and scoots over. I sit down next to her. The girls immediately clamor around me asking all kinds of crazy questions. I ignore them all, mainly because they are speaking at the same time and I can't hear a syllable, but mostly because they are in the way of me looking at Draco. I see him as he runs his fingers through his blonde hair. That makes me want to run my fingers through it too. I wonder how soft it feels. Silky and air like. I raise my hand to wave at him but a girl sits in front of my view. She has a yellow head band in her golden blonde hair, and the creepiest smile I've seen today.

"I'm Lavender Brown. I just know we're going to be the best of friends. You're the best seeker ever!" she yells.

"Umm…thank you," I answer. I don't want to hurt the poor girl's feelings. She is the first person to actually talk to me. Lavender jumps from her spot across from me and plops down beside me. She reaches for a lock of my hair and puts it up to hers.

"See Parvati, this is the color I want. A little tint of blue," she says. I gently take my hair from her greedy hands. My eyes sneak another peak over at the Slytherin table. Draco is staring back at me. I can't look away to save my life, even if I wanted to. Which I don't.

"Oh my god. He is so lovely isn't he?" Lavender elbows me in the ribs.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, he is," I say referring to Draco.

"What? Are you making a pass at my Ronnie Pooh?"

"Ronnie Pooh? Who is that?"

"The red head sitting next to Harry Potter. Who is staring back at you this very moment!"

Instantly the conversation becomes more interesting. Harry Potter goes here? I had never paid attention to which school he went to. I guess I should have. He's a idol back home. The greatest thing since sliced shark fin. Lavender grabs my cheeks between her fingers and guides my head toward 'Ronnie Pooh', who I'm more than sure that's not his real name. Sure enough, a red headed boy is looking back at me, chewing on a piece of pie. The girl next to him hits him with her book and scolds him. Probably for eating because from down here he doesn't look like he's breathing in anything but pie. Harry Potter says something to both of them before giving his attention to me. I look away. I had wanted to come here anonymous. I didn't want anyone to know my name, nor the past I left behind.

Checking out the Slytherins for the thousandth time, Draco is giving his cup the grip of death. The glass shatters in his hands, spilling out it's contents in a puddle on the table. The girl across from him picks up some towels and hurries to his side. She pats the wetness away. Her lips move. Draco doesn't respond to her. The girl stopped cleaning him up and raised her head to me. I quickly look down at my hands. She's not the prettiest girl. Her nose makes her look like a dog. She pushes Draco hard. He pushes her back.

"Off to bed! Go on now, hurry! Get a good nights rest for class tomorrow!" Dumbledore announces. Draco runs out of the Great Hall. Leaving me with a very upset dog across the room with a sick case of rabies. Lavender wraps her arm over my shoulder and says, "I can't believe I get to room with Seraphenia Zachariah! This is going to be the best year ever!"

Luckily I have Lavender on my side.


	3. Chapter 3

**It took longer than I thought to update this. I have been working on this all week because I have had hardly any homework. Yay!**

**I am so glad that you like this story so far. It really does mean a lot that you review because I was worried I wouldn't get positive feedback. Thanks to people that have reviewed. There is no Draco and Seraphenia interaction but in the next chapter he will turn a 360* change. EVIL hahaha….well maybe not evil but significantly dark. But there is another Slytherin…**

**Let the reviewing commence!**

Chapter Two: A Blaise in the Fire.

**Seraphenia's POV**

There are a lot of things going through my mind as Lavender drags me like a dog on a leash behind her. Of those multiple thoughts, three stand out boldly.

The first is why hadn't Blaise told me he attended Hogwarts?

We are by no means strangers. When I was in the hospital, the damage done to my body was so severe I had to be taken to a muggle hospital in California. That is where I met Blaise. His family is loaded with pureblood supremacists; however, his father's sister is not. He spent the summer with his single, free minded aunt and her two adopted children in Muggle America, complaining nonstop from the stories I heard. Every day the four of them would volunteer at the hospital I resided in. I don't think he particularly enjoyed nursing to the sick and in need.

I met Blaise my first day in Level 1 trauma. The worst ward to be in. When I was stable, we were introduced. I could read his face easier than a book. He did not want to be there. A few days later I was moved to Intensive Care Unit and he became my 'psychological enhancer'. He was to report to me daily to boost my psychological intake of all things normal. It was critical to keep my mind enriched with activity while in captivity.

The main problem was my name. Some journalists don't understand the meaning of privacy. Mom was positive that I would be followed. The alibi we concocted was that there was a plane crash. The ministry created temporary muggle documents. My new name was Josie Deccan. I had to think, speak, and overall act muggle. It was harder than I expected. I never left the ICU until I was able to go home. On the bright side I got a private room, surprisingly at the request of Blaise himself. He can be honorable when he wants to be.

I hadn't the slightest notion he was a wizard, and him me for a whole month. It happened on accident.

"_Magic doesn't exist."_

"_It does too. You just need to find it."_

"_I have found it. It's called science. You know, why the earth is round, the sky is blue, gravity, all that good stuff. There is no such thing as magic."_

"_Science? That's what you Americans call it?" Blaise throws his arms in the air for emphasis. He laughs. "Magia __è dappertutto cara."_

_I love it when he speaks Italian. I try to pay attention the best my rapidly moving thoughts will allow me. Some days I deliberately get him hot so he can shout Italian obscenities at the innocent nurses. It tickles me pink. Plus Italian sounds better than I had thought it ever could. It makes living in this bubble worth the prize in the end. _

"_And what do you know about magic tricks? Are you a magician?" I ask. _

_Blaise leans back in the chair. He puts his thinking face on in concentration. The sun hits his dark skin and brings out the natural luminescence he has. I hadn't noticed before, but his eyes, they glow than any regular brown hue. The definition in his cheeks is more defined too. He's drop dead gorgeous. And everyday he comes in and treats me as if I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. I am the most important part of his life. He ignores the scars I have physically and emotionally._

_I refuse to take the blankets off of my body for the doctors, just when it is crucial I have to. I don't want to be reminded of what that wolf freak Greyback did to me. I'm lucky he did not bite me. I was left with a nasty wound in my arm. The first time I showed Blaise he was in a semi-permanent state of shock. And he held me. That's all. No talking. No crying. No pity. He cradled me in his arms until I fell asleep. I wish I could tell him the truth. He deserves to know. He has been nothing but kind to me._

_Blaise rests his elbows on the side of the bed. "In fact, I am a powerfully trained magician," he says slyly. The twinkle in his eyes over powers me._

"_Do tell Mr. Zabini."_

"_Close your eyes."_

_I shut them tight. But I open them a bit to peek and to annoy him. "Hey! I said close your eyes Jo!"_

"_Okay! I'm sorry," I say. I close my eyes tightly for realistic effects. I open them to see through my lashes. Blaise takes a wand out of his pocket. He points it at the porcelain doll his aunt gave me last week. The nurse accidently knocked it over. _

"_Reparo," he says under his breath. It was not intended for me to hear. I open my eyes seeing the doll putting itself back together. I don't know what to think, the fact that Blaise is a wizard or that he just performed underage magic in the presence of muggles and a witch acting like a muggle._

"_You used underage magic!" I hiss. I grab his wand from his hand. He can get us both found out, that idiot._

_Blaise snaps his head in my direction. "Underage magic? What do you know about underage magic? I told you to close your eyes. Now I'm fucked thanks to you!"_

"_Maybe if you were thinking properly—look. I know what I saw! I saw that doll put itself back together. You stupid British Italian."_

"_What do you know about thinking properly? That's why you're in the hospital, right?"_

_That caught me off guard. It was really low. Ever for him and that's pretty low. I roll over onto my side to face the window. There are times when I want to scream into my stiff pillow. It smells like hand sanitizer and generic laundry detergent. Not the kind of smell that mom uses in the wash. She puts in real cotton, lilac, and fresh air to get that special smell only she can make. I want to pull my hair out from the roots, throw something, and do anything so I can feel human again. The snooty comments are what drive me crazy._

_I've given a couple of interviews for The Daily Prophet and the St. Valley Times. Questions have been dropping from owls into the ministry every minute, its like clockwork. Mom visits when she can. I got an owl early this morning from her. She sent a contract from the U.S. Quidditch Team with a letter telling me to write that when I finished my schooling I would return to my future position. At least this time she wrote 'with all our love, mother and father.'_

"_Why did you lie to me Blaise? Do you really think I'd tell anybody that you are a wizard?" I ask softly. I thought we could trust each other. On the contrary I haven't told him I'm a witch either._

"_What do you want me to tell you Josie? It isn't exactly an icebreaker to say, 'Ciao I'm Blaise. By the way I'm a wizard.' You are a—muggle and you can't know a peep of our world. Fuck!"_

_I can tell he wants to say filthy muggle or nasty muggle or disgusting, vile, incompetent, stupid, muggle. One of those._

"_That's not what I meant. We can trust each other. What'd you do it for anyway? You know the risks."_

"_Trust? And what about you? What do you know about wizardry? You said magic isn't real."_

"_I didn't think you'd actually use a charm considering I didn't know you are a wizard. Don't worry about the underage magic law. In America the age is fifteen for the basic crap and seventeen for more complicated spells."_

_We don't say anything for a bit. He's probably pondering what to do. Obliviate my memory or let me be. "What do you have to say for yourself? Obviously you aren't a muggle because you read me the A.M.M. handbook."_

"_You're right. I'm not a muggle. I'm going to be in my fifth year—well, I was going to be. I studied at Dwarfullton," I say. Mother said it would be a breach of security if I told anyone I was a Dwarfullton survivor. Oops._

"_Josie, please look at me," Blaise says. I turn over to see the soft features on his face. "I'm so sorry."_

"_You don't have to be. By the way, my name isn't Josie. It's Seraphenia. I'm sure you can figure out the rest."_

_Blaise puts two and two together. He lights up like the Fourth of July. "The Minister's daughter! Merlin."_

"_That's what they all say."_

"…_Pureblood?"_

_I hesitate to answer. If I tell him I'm a half-blood, he will probably faint. If I tell him I'm a muggle born, he will have a heart attack and die. If I tell him I'm a muttling, he'll slit his own throat, jump out the window, and Avada himself on the way down._

"…_Yes," I lie._

"_Lovely."_

Honestly, it wasn't very smart of Blaise to use magic in front of a supposed muggle, so it is his own fault. We talked for hours after that sharing our stories and whatnot. He told me about his pureblood family in Italy. His mother's name is Noemi. She can't speak a lick of English and when she tries it comes out like gibberish. His father, Giuseppe, is a…uh…I don't know what he does exactly but it involves the ministry and something about muggles. I think. He has a sister named Marquette. Blaise said she is a very promiscuous witch. He left it at that. The light of his life is his brother Luka. When Blaise talks about him the pureness of his heart is easily seen despite what he thinks of non-purebloods. It made me smile. He loves his family more than he loves himself, along with the flaws that they have.

Blaise said he couldn't stomach muggle-borns—he didn't call them that—and had little respect for half-bloods. Our conversation shifted to muttlings. He doesn't like those as well. I gave him a neutral opinion on how I felt. We would read muggle books and discussed what we read, against his liking but he did it to make me happy. The day last day I had seen him was the same day he found out I was a muttling. August 9th. I was in my hospital bed. I left the hospital a week later. I was going through a rough patch. The realization of what had occurred at school had finally sunk in. Blaise held my hand. That is when it happened. That idiot leaned down and kissed me.

_I roll over in the bed. Since arriving here in this place crawling with muggles, some who need a strong silenico charm, I haven't had any thoughts of what put me here in the first place. I've been in this retched hell hole for the past two months. The food I'm forced to eat is worse than vomit. The doctors don't want me to go outside just yet. All I do is walk around the hospital three times a day. At breakfast after my fruit, lunch before my crackers, and if I'm lucky I can interrupt dinner with my insistent wailing. _

_The loneliness creeps up behind me. I can see my reflection in the window of my room. I look ghostly. My skin is sickly pale, no longer the peachy pigment it usually is. My hair is no longer a healthy black sheen; my curls are losing their coil -spring figure. The rims of my eyes are a bloodshot red. My body has been pulsating black blood throughout my veins for a couple of days now, a lethal trait for demigods. When a demigod has been away from their natural element for a long period of time, our souls become desperate. The survival instincts kick in to attack for what we need and starve our bodies for the resources we are without. I haven't come within an inch of heat. Heaters, lamps, and blankets can only tide my symptoms over, not fill its hunger. The soul drains life from me to keep itself satisfied, and I drain life from its source to keep me alive. There has been no sun in weeks. I think the nurse is becoming annoyed from changing the light blubs so often. Thanks Zeus._

_I look at the clock on the bedside table. Two o'clock. Where is he? Blaise is usually here at 1:50 PM everyday to begin our reading session. He's the one that picked out this damn book, well, I did, but I had to get him involved somehow. Blaise is the only visitor I have all day. This does not include the nurses and their shots, the doctors and their funny machines, and the occasional bird flying by. I wish my mother were here. The only time I've seen her is in the St. Valley Times that is owled to me. Her excuse is she can't leave her position at the ministry. I miss her dearly. Since the attack, she has become more vicious and irritated with the simplest of details._

"_Knock, knock," a voice from the door calls. I ignore him. I don't want to look his way. Not when I'm like this. Blaise would be devastated if he found out I had lied to him. I really want his friendship. It's all I have here. I huff and stretch my legs, feeling the book we are reading on the edge of the bed._

"_Have you been reading at all today?" he asks. I ignore his question. "You are the one that picked out this muggle book. It's your own fault if you don't like it," he says annoyed. I kick the stupid book of the bed. It hits the sterile floor with a loud thud. "Don't think I'm picking that up. This floor is soiled…what's wrong? Are you not talking today?"_

"_You are late," I say to the wall._

"_By ten minutes. Are you really going to scold me for ten minutes? I had to do errands with my aunt today."_

"_Go away. You bitter Italian."_

"_Bitter? I am not bitter. You are the one acting like a child because I was ten minutes late. What is going on Sera? The point of me being here is for you to interact and talk with others. You know, so you don't drive yourself crazy all day…and so you remember to go to the loo."_

"_The only reason you're here is because your aunt is forcing you to volunteer. If I were you I would want to be on the beach doing cartwheels and building bonfires. Sleeping under the stars at night. Not spend my summer in a nasty hospital talking to trauma victims. It is hardly invigorating."_

"_We don't do that in England. Hell, we don't do that in Italy. I find you very invigorating."_

"_Well then there is something wrong with you."_

"_Maybe there is. Okay, so I don't find hospital invigorating work, but it doesn't change the way I feel."_

"_About what?"_

"_You."_

_What could he mean by that? The way he feels? Romantically…that's a load of garbage. No one has looked at me in those terms since Jack, and he didn't do much anyway. I found Blaise just staring at me at times. He would stare when I wasn't looking, blink four times when caught, and go back to the topic at hand. His eyes would dilate from time to time. I forgot what that means according to Gossip Witch magazine, but it must have been important. Blaise stutters more than he used to and his hands are sweaty. The nurse checked his blood pressure the other day because I said he didn't look so well._

"_What do you mean by that?" I ask him. My heart picks up speed thinking of the possibilities._

"…_nothing," he says. _

_Blaise pulls over the chair from the far wall and brings it over to me. He wipes it down with tissues. "I'm sure there are lots of people in England and Italy that aren't as stuck-up as you. Who wipes down the seat with tissues?"_

"_Are you calling me stuck-up because I wiped down the seat with tissues?"_

"_I didn't call you modest. Why don't you take some notes, use them as a reference."_

_The stiff bed is weighted down near my feet. A bag rustles loudly. I can smell the sweet sugar of those muggle doughnuts he knows I love so much._

"_I brought your favorite. What are these called…Krispy Kreme. How can you stomach this garbage?" I ignore his comment. He despises those drug-like treats. Blaise doesn't have much of a sweet tooth. "Are you going to tell me what the bloody hell is wrong with you or do I have to stare at your shapely arse in that hideous gown?"_

_I move my hands to the slit in the back of my gown to cover my bare skin. The use of proper clothes means nothing here for muggles. Blaise laughs loudly. I roll over to face him trying to hold his sides to stop from laughing. His cunning grin falls to the floor._

"_Bloody hell Sera! You look worse than what the cat dragged in," he says. I roll my eyes at him angrily. "No need to get snippy." His attitude becomes more serious than before. Blaise crosses his right leg over the left. "You were fine yesterday. What's wrong? Are you rejecting the medicine?" he asks. "I'll call the nurse if you want me to."_

_I bite my lip to the point that it is numb. Letting it go I say, "No. The medicine is fine. I just had a realization. A realization that I know for a fact will haunt me for the rest of my life."_

"_That is very dramatic. Has the nurse let you watch those rubbish soap operas again?"_

"_It's true, Blaise I'm being serious here. I am alone. Do you see anyone else from Dwarfullton waltzing back into my life? No. Do you understand? They are all dead! They aren't coming back!"_

"_That is not true Seraphenia. The aurors are finding more survivors everyday. You have me," Blaise says. His hand touches my cheek. He wipes away the tears from my skin._

"_And what am I supposed to do when you go back to England? Hmm? I barley talk to the nurses let alone the doctors. What am I going to do when I get out of this fucked up place? Go back to the way things were?"_

"_We can write to each other…" his handsome face frowns again. Blaise is deep in thought. "…I know how to use a phone, my aunt made me…owl…"_

"_It wouldn't be the same. You're the only one that treats me human."_

"_If I didn't find you invigorating I wouldn't have stayed for as long as I have. I have so many emotions for you."_

"_Really? Tell me one." I sit up and reach for the doughnuts. Opening the box, I take out a nicely glazed doughnut and take a bite. "You want one?" I offer to him. He shakes his head. I stuff my face with a second treat before I can finish the first one—_

"_I…I love you Sera."_

_I bite my tongue. Did he just…? "Blaise…you don't mean that. We've known each other for less than two months."_

"_I don't care."_

_Blaise stands over on the bed. He takes my hand in his. It is so much bigger than Jacks. I have a warm tingly feeling in my tummy. His hands radiate warmth. My body yearns for it. I hold him tight. He leans down to my height, bringing my face to his. His lips are so close to mine I can smell the spearmint on his breath. It's so sweet and intoxicating. Blaise pulls me to him and his lips touch mine so softly._

_The feeling is so mind bending it's unreal. His hand tangles in my hair, tickling the delicate strands. He lifts me up against his solid body. I moan into his mouth. Blaise pushes me back on the bed and crawls on top of me. I grasp at his muggle leather jacket clumsily._

"_If you hate muggles why are you wearing a muggle jacket?" I ask._

"_Just because I hate them doesn't mean I can't wear their clothes. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I don't care about your name," he groans. I can feel his excitement through my gown. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to throw you over the bed and ravish you."_

_It doesn't matter to me that we are in the hospital making out, snogging. I just know how much I want him. He makes me feel so special and wanted and loved. Blaise kisses me again. His hand grips my hair tightly as he pushes the hem of my gown up around my thighs. His hand sneaks up my gown to touch my waist and up further to the side of my breast. The black blood in my veins grows stronger with our kiss. Blaise's strength grows weaker. I can't fight what I want. He is so warm. It's an attraction I can't stop._

I bump into Lavender's body with an abrupt stop. "Why are we stopping?" I whisper to her. I look over the railing on the stairs. They could go on forever.

"We have to say the password to get into the tower silly. Someone has forgotten it again," she says.

Whatever happened to using keys?

_The lightening bolt on my forehead burns painfully. But I push it aside. I can feel a surge of power form between our kiss. I sharp burst of light sparks. Blaise pulls back in pain._

"_Hey! You shocked me!" he laughs. I begin to laugh too but the pain is back. I reach up to hold it in agony. I scream for it to stop. I stand from the bed and hide in the corner._

"_Sera! What happened?" he shouts._

"_Nothing. Go away," I tell him._

_The tips of my ears grow to points. My front of my teeth grows sharp deadly vampire-like fangs. Shit. I should have known better._

"_No! Stop telling me that. I want to help you."_

"_If I told you, you'd hate me."_

"_No I wouldn't. I promise. I could never hate you Sera."_

_He promised. I turn around. Blaise's jaw drops to the floor. He points at me in a violent shake. Here I am; standing before him; my forehead glowing, pointy ears, black veins on my face, and fangs. "Oh…oh my god—you—you're a—MUTTLING," he growls in disgust._

_My bottom lip quivers. "Blaise please let me explain."_

_He whips out his wand from his pocket. He points it at me. "Explain what? You said you were a pureblood. You are nothing but a filthy, lowlife muttling. That's all you'll ever be. I take back what I said," he says gravely. Blaise storms out of them room slamming the door behind him._

_Oh Merlin. And to think I thought I would have killed him._

Blaise had traded in his annoying use of insolent humor for the new choice of hurtful slurs. He nor his aunt and her two adopted children didn't come back. I had thought he was my friend. I didn't think he would act like the others with that blood status nonsense.

The second thing I'm worrying about is would he tell I am a…muttling. Blaise had been furious that I had 'lied' to him of my blood. Truthfully it was none of his business. When he winked at me at dinner tonight, he did it to scare me. He's warning me to stay in my place and in the background. I'm one step ahead of him I have to do that anyway. The third thing is what the rest of the school will do once they find out my blood purity.

The Fat Lady opens her portrait door. Lavender pulls me by my hand into the Gryffindor common room. All the furniture is painted in shades of crimson red to sunrise gold. The couches, curtains, wallpaper, carpet, everything; even the wood has a tinge of red. The new atmosphere is a breath of fresh air. Almost. Back home, Turt Shore was underneath the ocean, looking up at the fish swimming above our heads. The clown fish and the dolphins were the friendliest. They visited daily to play games. Our favorite was dolphin Quidditch. The clown fish replaced quaffles and dolphins were brooms. Occasionally a few sharks would pass by but most of them didn't mean any harm.

The warm room is utterly silent. Most of the Gryffindors are looking at me. The others that aren't are trying not to turn this way but they just can't seem to resist. I feel empty. I feel exposed to the bone so much that there isn't anything else to take. Stripped of what dignity I have left. No one will give me the time of day. I feel like if they had a quill they'd write on my body what they thought of me. How can I blame them? I told what I saw, I lied that it never happened, and then I said I couldn't remember, now I'm claiming I hadn't meant what I said before. That muggle saying 'the truth will set you free' isn't working in my favor. The more I try to explain the more I set myself back ten more steps from where I had been originally. Acknowledgment is the only thing I want at this point. I'd do anything for it.

One person I can recognize is a brunette that sat next to 'Ronnie Pooh' down the table at dinner. She's very pretty. Her eyes are soft around the edges so she must be friendly. Her hair is held back with a barrette. The red head next to her resembles 'Ronnie Pooh' to a tee. Sitting on a crowded table are two other red heads. Twins. They must be related to 'Ronnie Pooh' and the other girl. Both of them send me an awkward smile.

And I snap.

"Are you kidding me?" I shout. Heads snap up from their actions to focus in on me.

Lavender tries to pull on my arm but I shoo her away. "Come on Seraphenia. You don't want to cause a scene," she says.

Lavender's intentions are in the right place, don't get me wrong. She also hasn't asked me anything personally. What my favorite color is, muggle vacations I've been on, favorite holiday, book, birthday, my middle name for heaven's sake.

"Is that all I'm going to get from you people, a bunch of meaningless smiles? Is it because, what, you feel guilty about the attack? My embarrassment at dinner, oh, or the fact that you don't know how to talk to me because you think I'm some shattered soul? Well, I'm not. It happened, okay. Ogling at me like I'm living in a cardboard box with fake sympathy isn't going to take it back. Don't believe every word you read or hear. I know I don't have the best history with…sticking to one story, but I'm not who you are judging me as. If you have any questions don't talk about it to someone else. I wouldn't do it to you. So, don't do it to me," I say.

A tall boy with brown hair and a roundish face steps from the crowd. His argyle sweater vest is the first thing that captures my attention. I don't think I've seen an uglier pattern of wool before. I like it. Reminds me of Sabrina's muggle plaid pants she wore any time she got. I hated those pants. The boy looks at the ground the whole time while he's walking. He stands in front of me. "Neville Longbottom," he says.

I let go a breath. Finally. "Hello Neville. I'm Seraphenia. Everyone calls me Sera…err…they used to. It's lovely to meet you."

Neville reaches behind him and holds out his hand. "Care for a chocolate frog?" he asks. I eye it hungrily. I haven't had a chocolate frog in a while. Not too long after I made seeker on the Patriots, my very own trading card was announced. I never got to see it. Mother tried to keep everything related to magic away from me as much as she possibly could. I wonder what it would say. That I'm talented and smart or courageous and thoughtful? Loving? Loyal?

"Did you just take that from your back pocket?" I ask Neville.

Neville moves from one foot to the other. "…Yes…"

"Then, no thank you…actually, on second thought, I think I will. Thank you Neville that is very kind of you." I take the chocolate frog from his hand. Taking a bite from the frog, I flip over the card. What do you know; it's my card with a short description about me.

_At the young age of eleven, Seraphenia Zachariah was named the Most Desirable Player on the Turt Quidditch team at Dwarfullton School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In her third year, she won the 200__th__ annual North Sanctum Tournament, and remains as the tournaments youngest competitor and only female winner. Other than being the daughter of Minister Zachariah, she is most famous for her rebellious attitude and ruthless shenanigans. She has currently been named seeker for the United States National Quidditch Team._

If I could crumple up this god damn card and give it to a sea dragon I would. I am not rebellious nor do I participate in any type of shenanigans. It must be referring to when I spoke up for the muggles in one of my mother's trials. Is that a problem? I'm sick of people who think they know what's best for me telling me to shut-up. I'm not known for anything else? A damn Quidditch player and winning a game, that's it? It's like I'm some stupid animal without proper training.

"How can you expect us to believe a word you say? Do you know how many times you backtracked over your story? What, did the fall twist your logic?" a boy asks. "You-Know-Who is not back. He is never coming back." He grips a newspaper tight in his hands. I can imagine him thinking of that paper as my neck.

"Seamus you don't know that," the redheaded girl says. "None of us were there at Dwarfullton. Don't be a git."

"I do know that Weasley. For one, I know that Zachariah is a liar. Rita Skeeter says so herself, and she isn't the brightest bulb on the lamp. You know what she said about you? She said it was your fault that Voldemort attacked your school. I don't doubt that. You were Miss Professional Quidditch Player; the Golden Child because your mother is minister. Acting all high and mighty, better than all of us who are suffering. Well, now you and your precious little family have been knocked off your pedestal, back down to the real world to show everyone who you really are. A liar, a cheat, and a fake. It doesn't take a git to see that."

The boy only known to me as Seamus, for less than a minute, frowns with disgust at me. I can feel tears well in my sockets. I close my eyes to try and find that happy place. To find that comfort that has been missing for so long. I scan through the memories of my happiest moments. Mom's reaction when she won minister, dad witnessing me walk through the gates at Mt. Olympus, adopting Pip, Uncle Seidon and Hermes arguing, Fran trying out for Quidditch, Sabrina falling out of her chair during a potions exam, Jack kissing me for the first time, my short lived happiness with Blaise…

I think of the one person that hasn't totally ignored my existence since I got here.

Draco.

The way he spoke was like lying on the beach and letting the sun caress me with each ray. His exquisite smile greeting my quivering bones excitedly, digging to their very core. His steel grey eyes penetrating my blue ones, deflowering me with a single stare. I can just anticipate the feel of his warm breath on my neck. His hot tongue trail a path directly below my ear, letting the air make me shiver. His hands embrace the curves on my body while he whispers sweet nothings, breathing in his scent. His lips in places that would make Aphrodite blush redder than a rose.

I haven't the slightest idea who Draco is and here I am thinking thoughts about him in inappropriate ways. Jack never invoked those emotions out of me. As much as I wanted to, I didn't feel sexually attracted to him. I didn't want to upset him and I did sort of like him. We couldn't move past the stage of kissing and the occasional shedding of a thin layer of our robes. Yet, here I am, fantasizing Draco would attack my mouth with his. Brush my hair out of my face and tell me it was all going to be alright. I felt a presence between us when we were outside of Dumbledore's office. He acted sweet and kind. Not all Slytherin's are disgraceful, they can't be. Blaise is an exception.

"A git to see what?"

I turn my head around. Potter and 'Ronnie Pooh' are standing behind Lavender and I. I move aside to let them in the room. The tension can be cut with a knife. Potter walks further into the room. All eyes are on him now. It's insanely quiet in here now. I notice that most of the people in here have The Daily Prophet in their hands. I step behind a first year with one and take it. There is a picture of Potter with his name turning to 'Plotter' in the title. The picture changes to my school photograph last year with my last name changing from 'Zachariah' to 'High-Class Liar'. Only one person could come up with a tag line so catchy; Rita Skeeter. I swear to Merlin, that woman is the one that's a High-Class Liar. She can't pull a quarter of the truth out of her miniature skull to save her life.

_Seraphenia Zachariah? The Victim or The Instigator? By Rita Skeeter. _

_It's known all over that Seraphenia Zachariah, who also happens to be Minister Zachariah's daughter, is the wizarding world's Golden Child. But how far is her innocence true? Is she golden as she claims to be or an apple rotten to the core? Waking up in St. Valley Hospital in the middle of June this year, Miss Golden Child has been doing numerous interviews and appearances for her mother's ministry. It seems that each time when asked whether she saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, her story has changed countless times. Is the Golden Child losing her way? Or have her real intentions come shining through?_

_Seraphenia Claudette Zachariah was born April 1__st__ in muggle America, the fifth child of six children to Tara and Klaus. The Zachariah's lived a sheltered life, hiding their children from magic in suburban Chicago, Illinois. Letting their children attend muggle schools has corrupted their minds from the ideal Wizard Society. Tara Zachariah, nee Tara Caine, is offspring to a long list of pureblood witches and wizards on both sides. The Caine's were some of the founding members of the wizarding world in America. They are at the top of the hierarchy. It came as a shock when the youngest of Winifred Smith-Caine and Thomas Caine decided to marry outside of American pureblood status, opting for Klaus Zachariah, a supposed pureblood from Greece._

_The Golden Child rose to fast fame in her first year at Dwarfullton landing the spot of seeker for Turt house. She eventually led them to four consecutive Quidditch Cup wins. In her third year, she competed in and won the 200__th__ annual North Sanctum Tournament; the youngest ever to make the strict qualifications. And to top it all off, in January this year, she was the number one pick for seeker playing on the U.S. National Quidditch Team for the start of the regular season, filling in her brother's coveted position. The Wizarding World had cheered for the new seeker and her family legacy on the legendary Patriots, buying her team uniform, and wanting her autograph. _

_Was the fame and fortune all part of the plan for Zachariah?_

_When the first documented eye witness accounts of Death Eaters flying over St. Valley Square, Zachariah was specifically asked if she had seen a threat while on Coast Watch. She had assured to the ministry that she had indeed seen it, but had not reported it. With this new added evidence, it was implied that the terrible and legendary Dwarfullton Attack could have indeed been prevented. Fast forward to one month later in July, when asked again about her duty on Coast Watch, she claimed she had not seen a thing. Why deny? Is there something that she is hiding?_

_And where does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fall into this? Zachariah also claimed that she had fought him one on one when trying to escape the sinking foundation. How had she escaped? It is not possible for a young wizard or witch to escape the hands of The Dark Lord and live another day. Except Harry Potter and we all know the lies he tells. Which leads me to think only one thing left for me to think at this time: Is there an association between The Dark Lord and Seraphenia Zachariah?_

_Why should you think this? It is simple, actually. My sources have informed me and The Daily Prophet that Dwarfullton School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was allowing the teachings of dark magic in their Defense of the Dark Arts classes. Miss Zachariah had the highest scores in her class. When these accusations were made against The Utopian School, the A.M.M. quickly came to the defense of its professors. Due to the high protection of wizarding law in America, I am not allowed to mention any further details._

_Is it possible that Zachariah could have broke wizarding law and used dark magic to escape the clutches of The Dark Lord unharmed? Is the A.M.M. producing dark wizards?_

_It is obvious that referencing Zachariah is no good use. Her partying, outlandish, and downright foolish ways have condemned and embarrassed St. Valley Square and made America the laughing stock of the wizarding world. Sales for her Quidditch robes are at an all time high. Is that just a simple coincidence or is the story of, as muggles call it, crying wolf given her the upper hand?_

_The bottom line is: How can we trust a girl who doesn't remember what word she said last let alone what she had for breakfast?_

I put the paper under my arm. What the hell does Rita Skeeter know? Stupid old hag, she wouldn't last two seconds if she dueled with that nut-case Voldemort. Hell, she's crazier then he is. At least he let's you know why he's going to kill you. The Skeeter bitch just writes whatever she thinks will sell. And obviously this new edition of the prophet is selling. I can feel vile urging itself up my throat. The ministry couldn't be able to find out that I had used dark magic because I had done it wandlessly. Wandless magic is untraceable.

Potter passes by me and Lavender heading up the stairs. I can feel the loss of pride radiating off of him. We're both in the same boat. The news of Cedric Diggory's death in the Triwizard Tournament made it all the way across seas. Potter said that Voldemort was back. I hadn't listened to him at first. There was no need to. Dwarfullton wasn't a threat to that type of violence. Death Eaters were a foreign language to us. Dwarfullton did try to prepare us by teaching to use dark magic to our advantage. Headmaster Twill wasn't blind that there would be times when mainly using defending spells wouldn't be enough. You have to do what you have to do. If that means breaking the law, so be it.

About a month before the attack in February, I was picked to compete in the 200th annual North Sanctum Tournament. The North Sanctum Tournament is a bit like the Triwizard Tournament, with more violence and more rigorous obstacles. It was an honor to even be considered for an entry, to have your name in the same sentence. One player from Canada, the U.S., Mexico, South America, and Central America, are chosen to represent their region. Sometimes two players were chosen from the same school.

After each mission, a player is eliminated until there are two left. The first mission was capturing a Yeti. Yes, a Yeti. They are as real as snot in a baby's nose. I managed to cage mine with minimal problems. Some are quite friendly actually. The second mission was traveling by foot to Arcadia Isle to bring back a feather from a Hippogriff, capture an Imp, and a vial of Acromantula venom. Sabotage was used. The bridge I had to cross to get over an abyss was missing planks, that Canadian bitch Penelope Tanner pushed me in front of a Hippogriff when I was approaching it. Damn beast could have knocked my block off. She placed first in that round because of that shady business.

The third mission was battling a Boggart. Mine was a werewolf. Terrifying creatures. In second year, I saw a classmate get attacked by one in the Forever Forest. Almost killed him too. His name was Mick Johnson. Dwarfullton had to quarantine him every full moon. It baffled me because…we don't have any werewolves on our side of the water, England sure, but not in America. It looked right at me. It had a scar-like rumpling of skin under the right eye. I ran back to town screaming bloody murder. In the tournament, I could have sworn it was the same werewolf that attacked Mick. There was something else out there other than that Boggart werewolf. A real one. I remember seeing a shadow of a man before seeing the werewolf. I used Protego to shield myself and it ran away in the night. I had taken out my father's pocket watch. It read three o'clock in the morning. My mission started at 3:30.

The last mission was between me and Brett McDonald, a sixth year in Rodis, who wasn't the nicest person on the planet. The third mission is also the most dangerous because there were no rules to stop the other person, just get to the North Sanctum first.

The Forever Forest is in the country side behind St. Valley Square and is at the north edge of The Open Territory. The North Sanctum is a protective clearing inside the forest. I remember it being a wooded area like the other parts of the forest. The ground would dissolve into itself and reveal a hole in the ground. You had to jump down and it led to an ancient tunnel like maze. That tunnel led to the sanctum which had the whole school in stadium seating. The Open Territory is a green space that is unprotected by magical means. It's highly recommended not to travel there alone. There is no protection of magic once you leave the edge of the Forever Forest.

The Roaming Hills was the last mission to complete. Brett and I were dropped in the middle of nowhere on the hills with only our wands. Every so often, the hills would shift position. So if you saw an elf ten feet away from you and the hills moved, that elf would be in another location before you could blink. It's easy to figure out how the rotation works if you pay attention to landmarks. The way to get to the sanctum was by portkey. Brett and I touched it at the same time. Instead of taking us to the forest, we were dropped smack dab in the middle of the Open. We dueled for some time before I grabbed the portkey and ran to the forest. Running across a war zone is not my choice of an adrenaline rush. I did win the tournament in the end by a fingernail, so I guess it can't all have been a waste.

Potter stops right at the stairs. "Seamus? Dean? Good holding?" he asks.

Dean, who I'm guessing is the darker of the two and because he looks nowhere near naïve as Seamus is right now, says, "Alright. Better than Seamus is actually."

Seamus throws the prophet on the table and stands from his chair. I look back and forth from Potter to Seamus then Seamus to Potter. "My mum didn't want me to come back this year," Seamus says.

"Why not?" Potter asks. I can see it in his eyes that he's uncomfortable with Seamus on the offensive. I take a step forward in case he might need backing up.

"Let me see, eh, because of you. The Daily Prophet been saying a lot of things about you Harry, about Dumbledore as well."

"What, your mom believes them?"

"Well, nobody was there the night Cedric died."

I see the tall figure of 'Ronnie Pooh' standing by my side. I nod my head over to Potter. "You're his friend? Maybe you should step in before they both say a piece they'll regret," I tell him. 'Ronnie Pooh' stalks behind Seamus waiting for the time to intervene.

"Oh, well I guess you should read the prophet then like your stupid mother, it'll tell you everything you need to know."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!"

"I haven't got anyone who hasn't called me a liar."

Seamus points to Potter crazily. "He's mad is what's goin' on. Do you believe the rubbish he's commenting on about You-Know-Who?" 'Ronnie Pooh' comes from behind Seamus. He stands beside Harry with poise ready to defend him. I wish I had someone who would jump in the defense for me. The A.M.M. can only do so much now that I'm not in their jurisdiction. And from what I've seen of Umbridge that is not a good thing.

He stands next to Potter. "Yeah, I do. Does anyone else have a problem with Harry?"

The room stands in silence. Potter and 'Ronnie Pooh' hurry up the stairs. Lavender reaches for my hands and squeezes it. "Sorry about Seamus. Are you okay?" she asks. I don't answer her. I let go of her hand and creep up behind this Seamus fool.

"Something happened that we don't know about. I think Potter knows," Seamus babbles on. I tap him on the shoulder one time. He turns to face me, once again with disgust etched in stone on his face.

I thought I could be brave enough to stand up to someone as grave as Seamus. Merlin knows I have seen worse in the world than him. But at this moment, this specific moment in time, I feel so small. So miniscule compared to him. I am not back home; on my own shore. The damage has been done for whatever else I'm worth. There is no one here to back me up.

Seamus laughs in my face and says, "You are suspect number one. There is no way in bloody hell I'd ever believe a word out of your mouth."

I hold back tears. I haven't been here a full day yet and I'm already getting attacked. By a boy named _Seamus_ no less. If I could, I'd let off some steam by shooting a few lightening bolts but I don't want to give myself away. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and push past Seamus. Running up the stairs, I don't have the slightest idea on where the hell I'm going.

"Seraphenia! Slow down! I can't keep up with you!" Lavender shouts from down the stairs. I follow the shape of the staircase past a window, a statue of a lion, and an archway. I look inside and see six canopy beds in a circle. The bedding is red and gold like the common room and the wood is dark. One bed has a brown trunk resting on it with a teal and orange strip down the side.

I cross the room to the bed. I am surprised that my trunk was able to be saved. My finger slides across the rough leather gently. The dent from first year is still present. Rudy Collins was the biggest klutz I've ever met. He was a good friend even more. On the balloon ride over to Dwarfullton, Rudy had been hitting a Bludger back and forth with another first year. He missed hitting the Bludger and instead it crashed through a wall, to the luggage cellar, and right into my trunk. Thank god no one was hurt. He started arguing with the other first year, forgetting that he had the bat in his hand. The bat flew out of his hand and hit me right in the mouth. Then he accidently back handed me trying to apologize.

What a start to a beautiful friendship.

To the right of the trunk is an empty animal cage. Where could that little thing have gotten to now? I turn to my left and spot the creepiest thing I've seen in a long time, and I've seen some creepy things. In the corner next to a bed across the room is a framed portrait of me surrounded by candles, a broom, a Quidditch uniform, and multiple newspaper clippings of articles and pictures tacked to the wall. I move from my spot and gaze intently at this…shrine.

One photograph is of me at mom's swearing into the ministry. I have four older siblings and one younger sister. My older sisters Chutney and Kellie look radiant. Kellie's sandy blonde hair is swept up in an elegant up do with golden highlights to match her dress. Chutney opted for a wavier style for her chocolate brown hair. Her curves fill out the black and white stripes of her gown in all the right places. Their matching navy blue eyes are shining brightly.

Standing next to them is a twelve year old me with bushy cave man hair. My face is smothered with freckles. My smile is so happy. I wore a purple tutu against my family's wishes. On my right are our older brothers Billy and Laurence. Billy is the oldest. He turned thirty-five last month. He has a wife too; her name is Mindy, a muggle-born witch. He works as a healer in St. Valley Hospital.

It is a little discouraging having to go to school the fifth of my siblings. Billy set the bar extremely high. Laurence and Chutney lowered it with their brainless antics but it managed to rise when Kellie graduated. Laurence is a professional Quidditch player for Ireland. He sees Billy almost every week with a new broken bone or brain damage, although I think the brain damage isn't due to anything Quidditch related, he has natural stupidity. The man is very flirtatious and not for his own good. I deal with it because he gives me free tickets to the All American Wizards concerts. Chutney is the third born. There isn't much I can say of her because she does it all on her own. Her personality is so spontaneous it's ridiculous. I get whip lash from talking with her for the shortest times. Plus it doesn't help that she has taken up that muggle habit of saying the word 'like' every other word in her vocabulary.

I find more of myself in Kellie than anybody. She's quieter and laid back than the others. Kellie isn't that much older than I am, but she takes on that motherly role when mom isn't available. I remember her reading muggle books to me every night before bed so I could go to sleep. When she visits muggle America, she brings back little gifts for everyone. She told me that she is thinking about teaching at a muggle school. She'd be good at that, she is a walking dictionary.

Sitting in Laurence's arms is my sister Dianna. She is the youngest. She gives me the chance to be a role model. I want her to look up to me and be proud that I'm her sister. I want to create a world for her that is safe and where she can hold her head up high and not be shameful. I miss my family so much. Right now they are living in muggle America. They have given up so much already to keep me safe. I'm the only one that inherited the demigod gene from our father.

Seeing the differences between us makes me hate that I take them for granted. Mom and dad are standing behind us with beaming smiles. Dad and I are the only one's who stand out with our jet black hair. The rest of them have variations of brown and blonde hair. Mother is a natural blonde. Next to our family photo is a picture of me pushing a reporter into a fountain in town. I couldn't go anywhere without a reporter sneaking around a bend. You would think I had the cure for fucking stupidity and everyone wanted a piece of it. It was a hassle keeping the world at bay. They eventually got he hint.

My eyes travel to the next one. This other photo gives me chills. It was of me after I had been pulled out of the ruins of Dwarfullton on a stretcher. My arm hanging off the side is limp. The title above the picture says, _'Minister's Daughter Found Alive!' _

It's disturbing seeing a picture of me this way. Mom never let me look at any papers if there was a picture of reference to the attack. The strangeness is beyond words, similar to watching in the third person.

Lavender walks in the doorway. "Oh! Seraphenia there you are. I see you found the…"

"Shrine. Yes, it's very…um, tasteful," I say awkwardly. "It matches the colors of the room. Red and gold." It doesn't match the colors of the room but small talk has its name for a reason. Lavender walks up beside me. She points to the family photo.

"Your brothers are extremely handsome. Billy's my favorite. I could snog him all day long if I could," she says.

"Please don't say things like that to me Lavender. The images are too surreal," I say. "Besides he is a married man…" I go into a daze. I hear something. A crunching noise is coming from the other side of Lavender's bed. I hop over the bed and hang my head off the side of the bed. My hair falls to the floor blinding me. The bed skirt moves. I lift it up to see Atticus, hiding underneath Lavender's bed with a red and gold scarf hanging innocently from his mouth.

"Atticus! Hand over that scarf!" I shout with authority. Atticus is my Kneazle. I got him as a present from Laurence last year against mom and dad's orders. I had a muggle pet chinchilla named Cuddles. He died from eating muggle rat poison when I visited Kellie. Plus mother hated him being loose in her house; she said that if it got lose again she would make a nice coat out of Cuddles and his vermin little friends. Atticus is a very overprotective and very jealous little animal. Sometimes I think he is a reincarnated human. The XXX rating he has does not help. The cat is too damn smart for his own good.

I grab Lavender's scarf. "What the bloody hell is that _thing_ doing with my scarf?" Lavender screams. She bends over to snatch it from him. "Give it back you beast!"

Atticus hisses at her and she jumps back. "Don't do that. You're scaring him," I tell her. Atticus crawls from under the bed and sits down at Lavender's feet with her scarf.

"Scaring him? He stole my scarf!"

I pick Atticus up and cradle him in my arms. His paw lands on my cheek. Thank goodness he adores me; he could slice my face like meat. I gently take the scarf from his mouth and put it on the bed. "Say you're sorry," I tell him.

I hear running up the stairs. The redhead and her friend come in winded. "We heard screaming," the redhead says. "Are you guys alright?"

"That monster stole my scarf!" Lavender points at Atticus. He claws at her near fingers like food.

"He didn't mean it Lavender," I say.

"I don't care. Just keep that bloody beast in its cage where it belongs. Shouldn't allow it here anyway."

Lavender takes her damn scarf, lifts the blankets on the bed and throws it underneath. She pats down the rolls for 'extra security'. She pushes rudely past the two girls, leaving the room. For a moment, the three of us stay in silence. We don't know how to start a conversation. The redhead sits on the bed across from Lavender's.

"What's your name?" she asks. I look up from playing with Atticus. My ears feel rejuvenated. It's odd to have someone ask your name when they know damn well who you are. For months I have been living this lie to please others around me and to act like and invincible player in a dangerous game. The simple question of, 'What's your name?' feels different and similar at the same time.

"Seraphenia Zachariah. You can call me Sera if you like," I say. She nods slowly. She crosses the distance from the other bed and sits next to me on Lavender's bed. She pets Atticus softly behind his ears. He nuzzles to her side.

"I'm Ginny Weasely," she says.

"Charmed."

The other girl sits in Ginny's old spot. She sits on her hands. "Hermione Granger," she says. "You're Sera, right?"

"Yes," I answer.

"What year are you in?"

"Fifth. You?"

"Fifth."

"I saw you earlier with Potter. With the redhead too. At dinner I mean. You don't have to be nervous around me. Unless you royally piss me off. But then," I point to Atticus, "you will have to deal with this guy."

"He's a Kneazle isn't he? I have one too. His name is Crookshanks."

"That's an unusual name. Atticus is way better."

"That's what you named your pet? A human name?" she laughs.

"It's what we do in America. Muggles dress their dogs in tiaras and glitter. I tried once with Atticus but he ripped the poor thing to pieces. Mother deemed it a waste of time to sew."

I flop down on the bed with a sigh. Ginny does the same. Hermione joins us. "What's your mother like?" Hermione asks.

I think about her question. No one has really asked me that before. I wouldn't call her a pureblood supremacist like Blaise's parents or agree with Death Eater tactics, but mother…is somewhat tolerant. She comes from a high-class, wealthy background. She wears expensive clothes, muggle and wizard, especially the coats. She loves fur coats. Sometimes I think she is a hypocrite because she preaches for blood unity but is fearful to associate with people below her blood status. She works for days at a time, making laws, overseeing trials, and other minister obligations. Mother is constantly getting on after me and my siblings about sticking to our standards.

'_What standards? We're half-bloods. At least dad and I are. You and the rest of them—'_ I would say before she cut me off with her usual answer of _'Seraphenia, you know I'm trying to work with the ministry to get muttlings recognized as purebloods. I'm trying the best that I can without risking your safety. You just have to hold out for a little bit longer and until then you will be a pureblood and like it.' _Then she would flip her hair behind her ear and put her fur coat on.

"She works a lot. Too much for my taste. My father is like that too. The ministry keeps both of them busy. Mother can be cold at times but she is tolerant of other bloods.

"Your family has house elves?" Hermione asks letting the shock seep through.

"Yes. It isn't what you think. They are free to go. Wear the best clothes. They just prefer us I guess. I've known since I was a baby. I don't know what I would do without them. They are family. The elves raise my sister and me for the most part. It wasn't always like that with the others," I say.

"My mother is opposite," Ginny says. "She loves everyone. Despises using house elves. Cooking is her favorite thing to do. For Christmas she tries to fatten me up. Says I'm not eating enough."

"Mine says I eat too much."

"Want to trade? For how long though is the question. Say…two weeks. Over Christmas. I go to America and you stay here."

"Deal. Mother once bought new robes for herself instead of picking up my allergy potion. What is your mother like Hermione?"

I can hear her breathing. I turn my head to see her chest rising and falling heavily. "They are dentists," she says.

"Dentists. You are a muggle-born?"

"..Yes."

"You shouldn't have to be ashamed. Back home everyone doesn't care—I take that back. It isn't as much of a problem. Mother makes me go to the dentist regularly. I can't be the minister's daughter with crooked teeth. My sister Kellie lives among muggles. In fact, I grew up in a muggle neighborhood. Chicago. We had to sell the house when mother won minster. We live in a wizarding community in the states now. Timber Fall Lane. I wouldn't say it is a mansion but it does have its perks."

"That's nice."

"How many siblings do you have?" Hermione asks. "I'm an only child. I wish I had a brother.

"Oh no you don't. Six including me. I have five other people I have to compete with for attention. Billy, Laurence, I call him Laurie, Chutney, Kellie, me, and Dianna. You have any brothers or sisters?"

"Too many. Bill—our brothers have the same name—Charlie, Percy, Fred and George—they are twins—Ron, and me. It can get really hectic when we are all home."

"Ron? Lavender called him 'Ronnie Pooh'. I think she would have cut me if I ever laid a finger on him. I think the girl is a little bit nutty."

Hermione snorts. "Nutty doesn't cover half of it."

Atticus climbs on my stomach and rests. I reach under Lavender's sheets and take out her precious scarf. "Here you go Atticus. I think you've earned a prize. I'll buy her another," I say.

"Hey Sera?" Ginny asks. "What is your favorite color?"

**Translation for Blaise: "Magic is everywhere dear."**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Before I wrote that Draco had been there when Voldemort told the table Seraphenia was a demigod. I decided that I don't want him to know so don't freak out with this chapter if you noticed it. I'm going to go back and change it later. Do you think I should add songs? I haven't decided yet but I had in mind Radar by Britney Spears just so you know.**

**Please Review!**

**Kind of disappointed from lack of reviews :(**

Chapter Three: Radar of a Slytherin

A Slytherin student was meant to not care about a damn thing if it didn't involve the perfect outcome for oneself. That motto was the definition for Slytherin. You had to eat, sleep, and breathe every breath in your lungs with it. It was more than acting the part. It was about carrying out a legacy that lasted in pristine condition for centuries. For the last five years, Draco Malfoy represented the ideal Slytherin in many ways. He knew he was selfish and cruel. It didn't bother him one iota what others thought of him. The more he was on the tip of their tongues the better, never mind insults or not. In fact, he wanted to see the fear in their helpless eyes when he came 'round. Make them know who they were going up against. A Malfoy never backed down. From the moment he entered a room, he oozed silent threats from his skin, pushing the challenger to dare try to disobey his commanding status. He was like Merlin; worshiped by all and on everyone's minds. It was great. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy was a true Slytherin there was no denying it. He knew the philosophy, the lifestyle, and the tricks of the trade. How could he not? His mastery of manipulation landed him as the most feared wizard in Hogwarts; a position most coveted by his fellow Slytherin brethren. He lay still in his silk black sheets staring at the canopy above his head, his hypnotic silver eyes roaming the stitching robotically, and his lips holding back a snicker of evil delight as he reflected on the events at dinner.

That little Muggle lover bitch had pushed the buttons of more than just the Slytherin table. But for Draco his buttons had been pushed far too much in one day. For one, he should have recognized the previously nameless girl in front of Dumbledore's office to be Zachariah. She was in the papers enough. The tables were slowly but surely turning against her. The more she opened that tight little pout of hers, the more her words became a jumble. Saying one thing, meant another and hinting developed into the cover up of a lie. Draco knew the Dark Lord was back. But reading the interviews about Zachariah in the Prophet he couldn't decipher the truth from a lie either. She was good at keeping the thin line highly visible. For the first time in a long time, Draco questioned his father's intentions outside the office earlier in the day. The girl looked harmless. Now he understood why his father wanted him to stay away.

The fact that her mother was minister made her untouchable for regular fingertips. One defective move and the whole plan would fall through. It needed to be set up perfectly. Zachariah was the last part of whatever the Dark Lord was preparing. Draco's father had made it clear to his fellow Death Eaters the girl needed to be rid of and fast. They agreed with him unanimously. She was the sole person from that night who could identify Lucius Malfoy as suspect number one in the attack. She had looked him in the eyes through the mask. Her wildcard moves painted her as a liability if evidence were to miraculously come up against them. The one thing they were hoping on was her memory staying the way it was; battered and washed up. She could land them all life in Azkaban or Lockdecat Prison since the crime was done on American soil. Lucius would get so agitated at the Dark Lord's ineptitude to strike while they still had a chance.

_Draco turned the corner of the Main Ballroom in Malfoy Manor, tapping his wand against his leg to a beat in his head. The voices of his parents down the corridor froze him._

"_I'm tired of waiting. It makes me anxious not knowing what his plans are!" Draco stepped behind the corner and listened to the rest of his mother's words. "Merlin forbids if something was planned ahead of time!"_

"_Yes, I know, I am getting rather doubtful in the Dark Lord's change of plans. It was unexpected for him to stop so abruptly in meeting," his father agreed.  
_

_Lucius Malfoy clutched tightly to his walking stick. His white blonde hair slicked back without a sliver out of place. Narcissa Malfoy wrapped herself tighter in her dark emerald robes. The lines on her face demonstrating how perturbed she was._

"_So, what are the changes this time?"_

"_The Dark Lord wants to wait to strike again. He hasn't given any details of what his intentions are, but I suspect that it will involve the original plan with the horcruxes. He's waiting for the right Demigod. I've tried to explain the risks of keeping the Zachariah girl alive. He says he needs her, what for I don't know."_

"_Don't you think you should find out—?"_

"_Shut your mouth woman! Don't you dare—what the Dark Lord has up that sleeve of his is a mystery. Snape has no idea either along with Bellatrix and Antonin. All we know is that she has to stay alive until he orders otherwise. Apparently she is the key to Potter's downfall. Not only is she part of the prophecy but she has her own to fulfill."_

"_What happens if she finds her prophecy first?"_

"_We will lose."_

In the next bed over, Blaise let out a loud snore that disrupted Draco from his thoughts.

Draco, ever the conniving, knew exactly how to settle the score. He reached over to his bedside table. His fingertips grazed the sleek structure of his wand. Raising it in Zabini's direction he muttered a silencing charm. The snoring immediately ceased…

Blaise took in a sharp breath and rolled over facing Theodore Nott. Draco wanted to bang his head against the wall. A simple_ silencio_ wasn't strong enough. He closed his eyes trying to ignore the noise.

"Mmmm…Sera."

Draco's eyes snapped open fiercely and his ears perked up. He eyed Zabini rolling over again.

'_Sera? Who is that?' _Draco thought eagerly. There were few times when Blaise talked in his sleep, most of them being when something, or in this case, _someone_ was on his mind more than customary. Draco flipped through their recent conversations trying to recall if the Italian ever mentioned being smitten with a girl named Sera. Blaise had told Draco all about his summer in America with his Muggle loving Aunt Jeanie and her pain in the arse kids. They talked about his conquests and ranks for numerous girls he had had in those blissful but short months.

Draco pondered them all:

Lulu: 9 for her expertise in pleasures from the mouth and an extra 1 for swallowing. Total: 10

A Kattie with two T's: 7. wasn't that cute in the face. Have to find compromise somewhere.

Zoë: 5 for lack of body.

Bridgette: 4.8 from lack of fresh breath.

Charlotte: 10 plus an extra 5 for letting him 'do' her from behind. Total: 15

Thelma: 2 because she would only go as for as rubbing.

Dottie: 6: couldn't stand her voice.

Rachel: talked about All American Wizards non stop so she doesn't get a score.

Jennifer: 10

McKenna and McKenzie (Australian twins): 5 each for a total of 10.

Penny: 7.6

Lola: 10 plus 5 for using her wand in imaginative ways. Total: 15.

Alexandria: 8

Tuesday and Wednesday (Canadian Twins): 2.3 for not putting out but acquired an added 2 for a group kiss. Total: 4.3.

Chloe: 9

Cleo: 7

Amanda: 7.8 but would have been a solid 8 if she hadn't have passed gas in the middle of sex.

Olivia: 10. Liked it rough.

Connie: 1. liked it too rough.

Sandy: 6.4

Nicole: 8 ½

Nikole with a K: 10

Niccole with two C's: insisted her name be pronounced Ni-kul and it earned her a 8.98

Barbra: 9.9

Midge: 10

Ethel: 5.6

Octavia: 9.3

Lourdes: A high 9.3431345 for effort.

May, June, and July (American triplets): 10 each. Total: 30. Who doesn't like triplets?

And last but not least Lea: The gymnast. Automatic 1o.

No. There were no Sera's in that bunch. Draco scratched his head for a bit. Then he racked his brain again. He had heard that name somewhere. He couldn't quite place where. What had Sera meant to Blaise? She must be important because he left her out of his show and tell. Thinking back to dinner, Blaise had been increasingly jumpy throughout the night, irritated, and quiet. Except for his mention to tell Draco he was staring at Zachariah with a baby's drool. And all three of those qualities acted at the same time were strange for Blaise.

Sera…what could have triggered—_Sera_…could it be that Blaise Giuseppe Zabini had a romantic fling with the Golden Child? It could be possible…when pigs fly. Draco snorted. She wasn't his cup of Firewhisky. Blaise's type was tall, blonde, and tan. He practically lived for running after skirts with a nice pair of stilts underneath. It was his pastime. It made Blaise, Blaise. Seraphenia Zachariah didn't scratch the itch for Blaise.

Draco wanted to know what had happened between the two. Knowing this kind of information could be used to his advantage if he ever needed it. He closed his eyes.

"Legilimens," he whispered. Draco entered Blaise's unconscious mind. He was dreaming. Draco stood outside the door of a Muggle hospital room. He saw Blaise standing in front of the closed door with a bouquet of pink roses in one hand and a box of Muggle pastries in the other. Draco scowled at this. The Blaise he knew would never touch anything Muggle. Blaise turned the knob on the door.

Stepping in behind him, Draco saw a bed and a boy and a girl in matching hospital gowns. They were sitting close together holding hands and laughing intimately. Blaise cleared his throat loudly. Both of them looked up from their little world with matching shocked faces. The girl Draco instantly recognized as Zachariah. Her skin wasn't ghostly pale but it clearly wasn't healthy. Her eyes were a dull blue with no spark. Her hair had no sheen whatsoever. The boy beside her had brown shaggy hair that reminded him of a wet dog and he had a round face.

"_Blaise! I thought you wouldn't be in for another hour!" Zachariah shouted astonished. Blaise looked down at their hands intertwined. _

Draco stepped from behind Blaise to get a side view of the show. _She pushed the boy's hands away from her. "You never show up early for our meetings. I have so much to tell you!" the excitement in her voice was evident._

"_Well I decided to show my face early for once. I could use the practice for school," Blaise said. His eyes shifted from Zachariah to the boy sitting with her. "Who's your friend?"_

"_Blaise, this is Tony Reed from 417A. You know that nice room form down the hall with the view of the city. He snuck out before his nurse came with his daily insulin shot. He had to hide somewhere, so I offered. That was a few hours ago—"_

"_Yes. He should leave. Without that shot, tomorrow could be your last," Blaise said harshly._

Draco curiously took in the silent exchange between them. Both sent daggers of hurt and trust from their eyes. He wanted to know what put them on such bad terms. The calendar above Zachariah's head said the fifth of July. So she was the…wait, Blaise said he had to babysit a Muggle. Zachariah isn't a Muggle. The Muggle boy leaned over to Zachariah's reddened cheek and kissed it, his lips lingered on her skin. Blaise gripped the flower's stems tight in his hand. His knuckles turning white with rage.

"_I'll see you after dinner JoJo," Tony said as he eyed Blaise suspiciously. He got up from the bed and looked up at Blaise, clearly the taller of the two._

"_Okay. Thanks for the visit. Oh, and for the gift. Good luck with the kidney," Zachariah grinned goodbye. Tony opened the door behind Blaise and left. Blaise set the flowers and chocolate on the bed. Zachariah touched the red petals with her head down. "Thank you for the flowers," she said softly. "I love roses. I…I thought you weren't coming in today."_

"_Did you not want me to? After one day, you up and replace with some Muggle not yet out of puberty. You two got along quite alright."_

"_Oh Blaise stop it. You are being mean. Tony was just stopping by. He meant no harm. No one could replace Blaise Zabini in my heart. You know that." She touched her heart with both hands and swooned._

"_Really? How am I supposed to know that __**Jojo**__?" Blaise lapped sarcasm on her new nickname._

"_Blaise he is being nice. A trait you need to learn. He calls me Jojo because everyone else calls me Josie or Jo. I like it."_

"_I don't. If I had it my way, I'd let all these gits know your real name. That Muggle—"_

"_That __**Muggle**__ is my friend Blaise. Is that all you came in here for? To cause a scene? If so then please go. I'll see you tomorrow."_

"_I don't want you to see him again," Blaise ordered._

"_Excuse me? You have no control over who I see and who I don't. Who do you think you are?"_

"_I think I'm your companion! Do you know how hard it is to keep you sane? You don't need some sick kid fucking with your mind. He is dying, and when he does, you will be back at square one again. Picking up the pieces of your shattered soul and I won't be there when it happens. Not this time."_

Draco saw the damage in her eyes at Blaise's bluntness. He had said it with minimal compassion and straight to the point. It didn't surprise him one bit. The events after did.

"_I hate you," Zachariah said. She irately picked up the flowers and candy and shoved them in Blaise's arms. Blaise dropped them back on the bed. "I wish I never met you. I was better off without you."_

"_More like headed straight for the crazy house. What is your problem?" he yelled at her. "I'm trying to help __**you**__ here!"_

"_Help me? How are you helping me? By telling me he is going to die? He's going to get a kidney in the next week or so. He told me himself."_

"_I don't want him near you. You aren't going to see him again. Ever."_

"_You are not my father!"_

"_The doctor does listen to what I tell him, Seraphenia. I could mention that you are back to your old self again. The dispatch date will be miles away."_

"_You would really do that? Sabotage me to stop a sick boy from keeping me company?" she asked. Her voice broke at the end. She fiddled with the stem of a rose. A small amount of blood trickled from her skin._

"_Yes. I would. I don't want to, but if that is what it takes," Blaise said ruefully._

Draco let himself out of Zabini's mind. Something was up with that memory, more than the obvious. She held a special place on Zabini's bedpost. Did Blaise know about the Dark Lord's need for her? And why did he lie of babysitting a Muggle? Seraphenia Zachariah. Just the thought of her name left a nauseatingly, bitter taste in the back of his mouth. The girl was another Potter. That's all she would be. A Goody Gryffindor. Draco closed his eyes for the hundredth time that night and tried not to think of her mysterious hair, those pure sapphire orbs in her head, the freckles, rosy flushed lips…

That stupid American bitch.

**The Next Morning…**

**Blaise's POV**

Blaise Zabini's plan for the year was put in action: Successfully avoid Zachariahas much as possible.

He didn't want anything to do with her. He didn't want to talk, associate, or deal with her more than what was required if they shared classes. His stomach had dropped out of his pants when he had seen her sitting next to McGonagall at dinner. He had intended that he would never see her again. That was fine with him. Blaise knew he wasn't the most sensitive bloke on the planet. He was hard, unemotional, and rude. It was his foolish mistake letting his defenses off guard in front of a supposed Muggle, let alone to have any romantic feelings. He did not know why the girl had fascinated him to the brink of insanity. When they first met, their only way of communication was through her cerulean eyes blinking. Her vocal cords weren't healed enough to speak. Now Blaise wished it would have stayed that way.

Blaise huffed as he walked into the Great Hall and made his way to the Slytherin table finding his best mates, Malfoy, Nott, and Pucey shoving their faces with food. With a large sigh, Blaise threw himself on the right of Malfoy since the left was taken by Pansy Parkinson. His regular plate of food consisting of two pieces of toast, eggs, and three slices of bacon appeared on the plate in front of him. He picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. The friction from the bread's surface left his mouth dry and scratchy.

"Why so silent today Blaise?" Nott asked.

He struggled to hold his food down while he laughed. Theodore Nott was annoying as annoying can get in Blaise's book. He acted as the class clown and had no shame in admitting he was as devilishly stupid as he was handsome. He had known him from before Hogwarts and he was a pain in the arse then and a pain now. Blaise rolled his eyes. He figured Malfoy must have told him how he silenced him in the middle of the night.

"Fuck off Nott," Blaise said.

"Now, now, don't get your panties in a bunch lover boy. She's only a stupid Muggle," Pucey said.

Although Adrian Pucey was a seventh year, he was third in command in the tight Slytherin circle. Once lead by the infamous Marcus Flint he had passed his reign down to Malfoy who was just as bad, in some cases even worse. He had learned quickly where his rank was behind Blaise, then followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson. Pucey was the less vicious of the six but he could be evil and vindictive if he wanted to be. One reason why Malfoy kept him around was because he knew how to get what he wanted and fast.

"I wonder what side you're on Blaise," Crabbe said while stuffing his face. "You should be nicking Muggles off not getting hot and bothered by them, and an American at that. The worst of the worst."

Blaise struggled to keep his temper in place at the pudgy boy's words. What did Crabbe know? He didn't know why Malfoy didn't get rid of him already. He was of no good use. All he ever did was eat, sleep, breathe, and eat again. It was nauseating.

"Better than the blood traitor wizards I suppose. At least they know their stance," Goyle added.

Zachariah was supposed to be a simple assignment. Then they started talking and that transformed to reading books, telling jokes, laughing together, which lead to crying, touching, feeling, and eventually kissing, his summer project. It was one of those things that just happened. Blaise succumbed to the fact that a Muttling was all she'd ever be.

"The Americans are getting what they deserve. It should be an abomination that they are allowed to have a magical society. Pure animals. Garbage," Malfoy said.

"Merlin, Blaise. I never thought you of all people would fall for a Muggle. That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard," Pansy said as she kissed Malfoy on his cheek before he pushed her away. Blaise stifled a laugh. Who was Malfoy to talk when he had a dog hanging of his arm?

"Ron, it's only the first day and you're already complaining about classes. You do this every year."

Blaise popped his head up at the screeching sound of Mudblood Granger's voice. Potter, Weasel, and the Mudblood were walking down the center aisle of the Great Hall.

"Can you bloody blame me 'Mione? The mornings are too damn early and the nights are too damn late. O.W.L.s are going to kill me. Can you help me Sera?" Weasel asked.

"You mean give you the answers so you can easily pass by the skin on your nose then expediently forget a significant amount of the skills?"

Blaise looked up from his plate and found Seraphenia walking side by side with the trio. Of course she would make friends with them first.

"…Yes, exactly what you said. But in smaller words," Weasel said.

"Well, well, well, Goody Gryffindor is here to grace us with her presence," Pansy said with venom in her tone. "It isn't surprising that the Minister's daughter befriends the Golden Trio. She practically coined the word. Stupid traitor."

"Speaking of, did you see that body on her in that skimpy little uniform last night?" Nott asked. "Traitor or not, I'd love to have her parade around in my dreams. Just look at her." Nott motioned to Zachariah. "Imagine her in scanty little lace frilly things. Slytherin green."

"Excuse me? Are you defending that American trash?" Pansy asked her voice rising. In all her years, she would have never thought she'd have to compete with an American.

"Oh cut it out Parkinson. All you do is fucking run your mouth. Don't be jealous that she has a better rack than you do," Blaise erupted.

"I'll have you know Zabini…"

Blaise ignored her tantrum and paid more attention to the girl in question. Nott was deranged and misguided most of the time, but when it came to women he knew his facts. Her robe was open to reveal a black sweater with a white collar shirt underneath. The first four buttons were open. Blaise remembered the tiny trail of freckles that matched her nose clustering from her collar bone to the valley of her chest. The skirt stopped at her mid thigh and black tights covered the rest of her legs. In her hair was an emerald green ribbon holding a chunk of hair out of her face that typically fell in her eyes. On her shoulder was a yak fur bag. Blaise predicted it held her favorite quill and ink, a Muggle book, only ten lose pieces of unorganized parchment, her wand, and the rest was useless junk and tissue. For a short moment their eyes met. She blinked a few times before turning to sit down and turning her back on him.

Draco noticed Zabini's silence after he shouted at Pansy. He was usually the last person to tell Parkinson when she fell off her nut. He tolerated her enough to stand her. Draco followed his speechless gawk across the Great Hall. It led right to the Gryffindor table and their new pet. That's why he went off on Pansy. He was marking his territory unintentionally; defending her honor while not giving up anything. Draco made a mental note to keep this piece of information for later.

**Seraphenia's POV**

I stare down at my breakfast of sausage, eggs, bacon, French toast, and pumpkin juice. Next to my cup is the medicine I take in the morning. Two small vials of potions lined up in a row; blue and green. Mother makes me take them everyday. She called them my 'Happy Drinks' when I was a child. I feel sick with nerves. My stomach is rolling over itself in knots and circles. Last night, Hermione, Ginny, and I stayed up talking. We have so much in common it's scary. Hermione and I love to read and are glad to call ourselves overachievers. I told her about the library at Dwarfullton and it's thousands upon thousands of books. No restricted sections. I wish I could show it to her, she'd really enjoy it.

Ginny told me of her love for Quidditch. She said she remembered seeing me at the World Cup last year through a pair of binoculars in a private seating booth. I wanted to go explore the stadium but mother told me she wouldn't allow me to try out for the U.S. team if I left. Dad stood behind her so he could get some peace and quiet. Mom had been acting straight out bizarre that day. She didn't leave from her spot in front of the glass, even when Laurie had came flying through the window, scaring the lot of us half to death. She was immobile, hardly dropping her platinum binoculars from her eyes. She was focused on one spot and one spot only…

I pick up my fork and push the food around the plate. I can see Ron eying my food with a hungry stare.

"Is there something fascinating with my food Ron or are you happy to see me?" I ask. He stabs a sausage with his fork.

"Ronald! Could you be any more of a pig? Your appetite is severely disturbing." Hermione says.

Ron stops chewing my food and asks, "Are you going to eat this?"

"No. You can have it," I say.

"Are—"

"Here. Take it." I push the plate to his side of the table. He happily accepts my offer. Hermione rolls her eyes and so does Ginny. I pick up the blue potion and pour it in my pumpkin juice. It swirls around and then mixes in. The healer mom sent me to before when I got home gave it to me for the repairs that couldn't be reached by Muggle medicine.

"What is that?" Harry asks and points to the vials. I sip from the cup and wrinkle my nose at the now bitter taste.

"It's my medicine. I was at a Muggle hospital. I had been so injured that magic couldn't help solve. After I was let out, a healer gave me this for the little things. It works like Muggle vitamins."

"What's the other one for?"

"…I…I don't know exactly. I've taken it for years." I down the rest of the pumpkin juice then uncork the yellow potion and take that too. It slides down my throat like a burn of hell. A buzzing erupts in my ear. I slap the annoying buzz away with my hand and miss. Pip lands on the table graciously, her orange glow illuminating around her.

"What is that?" Ginny shouts. Ron picks up Hermione's book and hits Pip to the table.

"No! You idiot!" Hermione yells as she pulls the book off. Pip lies flat on her back, her wings fluttering. I pick her small body off and stand her up to dust her off. Pip flies to Harry. She takes a moment to take him in and points at him frantically with both hands. She lands on his hands and tries to pull up a finger for a shake.

"What is she doing?" Harry asks. He raises his hand for her. Pip kisses his hand gratefully.

"I think she's thanking you. I can't imagine what for," I say. With a flutter of her shimmering wings, Pip curiously pulls back Harry's hair. He doesn't shoo her away like I thought he would. She turns to me and nods a few times.

"What is she doing? Is she talking?" Ginny asks.

"She says, 'You're Harry Potter. Thank you sir, thank you sir for your generosity. You saved me and my people.' She's your biggest fan, Harry."

"What does she mean by that? I haven't saved any fairies," Harry says.

"The correct term is Pixielotus. About fifty years ago, a student found a tribe of Pixies in the Forever Forest. It wasn't recorded to the ministry because…the times were dark. Dwarfullton let students go to the forest and let a pixie pick them out. I think Pip is referring to…to…well you know…" I hint at.

Harry nods. "It's nice to know even the smallest beings know of…it," he says sarcastically. I catch Pip in my hands put her inside the tiny house I have in my bag.

"Are you guys ready to go to class?" Hermione asks. She stands and begins picking up her books. "We should try and get good seats. First impressions count in the long run. See you at lunch Ginny."

The four of us leave the table. When we exit the Great Hall, Hermione pulls me to her side. Harry and Ron walk ahead of us.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you…I believe Harry to death, but…did you really see him?" she asks quietly.

"Yes," I say. She nods and leaves it at that. There is something about Hermione that gives me the feeling she will always understand. She isn't quick to judge. We turn down the corridor together. I see a tall man in dark brown robes heading toward us. His 7 ft 4in height stands out against all the small students. His white 10 gallon hat adds to his height. At the base of his neck is a turquoise Muggle bolo tie. His face is roundish face is all red from his constant sweating. He takes a white handkerchief from his robe pocket and wipes across his forehead and tucks it in his pocket again. He approaches us.

"Mornin' Miss Seraphenia," his thick southern accent says. He holds out his hand to Hermione. "Joel Pepperwood lil' missy, and you?"

Hermione stands her ground defensively. "It's okay 'Mione. This is my mom's personal auror. Known him since my diaper days. Real close family friend," I tell her.

"Hermione Granger," she answers.

"Why are you here Joel? Is something wrong with mom?" I ask. Joel flicks his eyes to Hermione and back to me.

"Sorry lil' lady, official Ministry business," he says. Hermione nods. I'll tell her later anyway.

"DADA is the second to last door on the right. I'll save you a seat." She clutches her books to her chest and walks down the hall. Joel takes out a small box wrapped in parchment from his pocket.

"You interrupted my class time to give me a box?" I ask.

"It's from your father. I don't know what he wrote. He just told me it was urgent. He should be thankful I got here. The security at the Flooport is crazy high. Everything, package and wizard, has to be checked leaving and coming. I barley got through myself. And I have been in the business since 1972 and I a specially issued A.U.R.O.R. pass to get through those damn lines."

"What's an A.U.R.O.R. pass?"

"It stands for Authorized Utility Rescue Obstruction Reassurance. Your mother only gave it to certain aurors in secret. It can get me pass any security gate and special access to unmentionable places. Came handy this time, I hadn't considered your mother to let go of her Willy Nilly side. Your father told me to use ultimate discretion in giving this to you. I suggest you do the same. I'm assuming it's a puzzle or a task but one can never be too sure with Klaus Zachariah."

I tuck the box into my bag with a sigh. "I'll remember to keep it safe. Listen…" I whisper. "Have you heard any news about that laws mom is supposed to be passing?"

Joel takes off his hat and scratches his red, bald head. Putting his hat back in place, he shuffles from one foot to the other. "Miss Seraphenia…now you know your ma don't tell me all that ministry business. She's trying as fast as she can with the pace the Wizarding world is going at, which is at a snail's pace. Worse than Muggle traffic. Go to fast people will start to catch on. What I do know, is that the ministry is having a vote to get rid of the Muttling laws in about a month or so. The base is that they are more expensive to keep them safe than to keep them…unsafe."

"What if the votes come out good? How long will I have to wait then?"

"Then the board will have to revise the potential law reversal. By then it shouldn't be long because once the ministry votes it can't be taken back unless a veto by the minister. The cards look pretty good as of right now."

I try to hide the smile forming. "That's fantastic," I say. A thought crosses my mind of a certain topic I had been meaning to ask him for the longest time. "Do you know…I mean…I've asked you before…but I just thought it might be a different answer this time…and…?"

Joel rubes the side of his temples and I can instantly tell he doesn't want to answer this question again. "Miss Seraphenia…" he begins sadly. "The Auror department is still looking for survivors. Our investigation was reinstated last week. We found something interesting. As of this very moment, Sabrina Greene, Fran Kirikakis, and Jack Sullivan are under the missing wizards file. I will owl you as soon as I know otherwise."

I hold up my hand in confusion. "Wait…hold up minute…I thought the investigation had ceased. What'd you find?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this in the first place Miss Seraphenia," Joel says. He wipes at his forehead again and lets a breeze under his hat. "About a month ago…we were searching the East Palace tower. Auror Jenkins found that an illusion charm coated in dark magic still being used. We called in a curse breaker. We concluded that…that someone on the inside had given the Deatheaters, which I believe you about, a signal of the school's weakest point to strike first. Your mother didn't want to sign off on the investigation because of the controversy it would cause. Most have chosen not to relive that night—"

"Wait. But that would mean—"

"Yes. We have confirmation there is a leak in the ministry. Every employee is being reprocessed. The Aurors want to keep silent that…that…You-Know-Who is back. But there is sufficient enough proof. From what your father has told me…uh…You-Know-Who is gathering Demigods and Muttlings as we speak. He thinks it is for the—"

"God horcruxes. He told me."

"…Yes…your granddaddy upstairs doesn't want to make a move just yet…but the God society knows You-Know-Who has the…the…uh…"

"Horcruxes." I notice Joel cringe at the word.

"…Yeah…those things. Your father says _he_ is waiting for something."

"Waiting for what?"

"The right Demigod. Klaus was informed that You-Know-Who is waiting for a specific person. Once he finds out who it is…Merlin bless us all if he finds the right amount of power to open them. Listen Miss Seraphenia, I have to go. I've said too much already. Goodday."

With a loud _Crack_ he apparates, and I am standing alone in the empty corridor. I run down the hallway to the second to last door and open it. The class is full of ruckus. I close the door softly. A small group of Slytherins turn towards me. One I recognize as Blaise and next to him Draco Malfoy. Then that pug faced girl in front of them. I walk down the aisle and see Hermione's head of hair. I sit in the seat next to her. The cold air travels in an upward motion from the hem of my shirt to my neck. It feels odd to be subjected to lessons within four walls. A desk is at the front of the classroom with a stack of books sitting on top. The window beside my head gives a view of the outside world. Merlin. It's like a prison. Harry and Ron sit at the next table over.

"I can feel the education already," I joke. Hermione takes out a piece of parchment and a quill and ink. I do the same.

"Really? I don't think we'll be learning much this year," she says. "The ministry has been interfering as much as possible since Cedric's death. Complete rubbish. Luckily for you you've past these exams. Including N.E.W.T.s."

An Origami bird flies over our heads and lands on the table. I hold it in my hand and blow it over to the Patil twins. It floats in the air before bursting into flames and landing burnt to a crisp on the table.

"Good morning, children," A voice calls from the back of the classroom. We all turn around. Umbridge is standing at the windows with painted on happiness. She's dressed in a sickly pink sweater over her red dress. She holds out her wand. "Ordinary. Wizarding. Levels. O-W-Ls." Umbridge walks down the aisle and she snubs me. How mature. She turns to the class in front of the desk. "More commonly known as O.W.L.s. Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be severe."

There is an underlying tone of cynicism. She flicks her wand and the books levitate themselves to us. The books slam down on the desk. I try hard to refrain from laughing at the cover. A childish drawing of a boy and girl are holding a copy of the book with shadow puppets of animals for a frightening appeal. My mother would throw this trash to the oldest dungeon she could find and ban it for all eternity. I flip through a couple of pages to a lesson.

_Chapter Seven: Defense against Dangerous Creatures._

Does Umbridge count as a creature?

_Lesson One: Reason and Logic._

"Hermione? Is it me or does this book seem to be missing a key piece of information?" I ask quietly. "Are we supposed to run and hide if a poisonous snake decides he's hungry?"

"It's not just you. This book has no spells at all," she says.

"Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But you'll be pleased to know from now on you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic," Umbridge says. I feel like I want to snap her neck. Hermione raises her hand. "Yes?"

"There's nothing in here about using defensive spells?" she asks.

"Using spells? HA!" Umbridge laughs as though the mere thought of a simple _stupefy_ is preposterous. "Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom." Umbridge approaches my and Hermione's desk. Her gaze never leaves mine. Threatening me to say an objecting peep. I feel an outside disturbance pushing the barriers on my mind. Like a probe. It's someone in this room. It can't be Umbridge isn't smart enough to do two things at once. I close my mind off and the pushing stops.

"We're not going to be using magic?" Ron asks.

"You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

"What use is that? If we're attacked, it won't be risk-free," Harry says. My body stiffens. I look in his direction to give him some kind of signal for him to stop. I can feel the next words he is about to say on the tip of my tongue. Umbridge rolls back her shoulders, flustered.

"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class," Umbridge orders. She moves behind the desk, like it's the only place she will be safe. "It is view of the ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations which, after all, is what school is all about."

"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?"

"There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?"

Oh shit.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry says. All I can think is please, Merlin don't let him utter a word of the rest of that sentence. If he does both of us are fucke— "Maybe" Merlin, help me. "Lord" Don't let him say— "Voldemort."

The class erupts in whispers. Then all eyes are on me and Harry. I can hear them speak our names like dirt. I turn my head and see a Slytherin sneer at me. I sneer right back at him. A quill drops and rolls on the floor and for about a minute it's the only noise for a long time. Umbridge clears her throat and changes her expression about fifty times. She raises her hands in a 'non-threatening way.'

"Now," she says and walks slowly to Harry. "Let me make this quite plain. You have been told a certain dark wizard is at large once again." She passes Hermione and me and gives us both nasty looks. "This is a lie."

"It's not a lie. I saw him. I fought him."

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" she shouts. Umbridge goes to the desk.

"So according to you Cedric Diggory dropped dead on his own accord?"

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him. You must know that."

"ENOUGH!" I jump in my seat. I think everyone else does too. "Is there anyone else who believes such lies?"

I let go of a hard breath. Doing this will shoot me in the foot but it's the right thing. I can't let Harry defend himself alone. "I second with Harry," I say. After the words leave my mouth, a part of me regrets my decision no matter how it's the right thing. Umbridge struck me with daggers. The classroom stands in dead silence. Nothing dares to make a sound. "I've fought him too. Harry is right. Voldemort is back. You are foolish to not see the signs."

"I was warned about you, Miss Zachariah. You are so much like your mother; bold and troublesome. Did you know your mother got called down to the Headmaster's office more times than anyone in her year for outlandish behavior? The fact that she is a Cain protected her from expulsion not that she was a talented witch."

"I take that as a compliment. My mother speaks for what she believes in."

"I suggest you close your mouth."

"No. How are we going to learn without adequate spells? Tell Voldemort I'm sorry I defended myself from him killing me? The ministry must act now. Filling our heads with false positivity will only give him the advantage. Voldemort will kill us all."

"And what do you know about anything? You aren't a very reliable source. According to you, the attack on Dwarfullton School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was not as you say. It is time to make up your mind now, dear. He is not back."

"I was forced to stay silent. I won't any longer."

"You are not in America anymore. Your mother can't protect you here, child."

"Nonsense. She gave me permission to make reports should I see fit. One owl is all it will take."

Umbridge holds her wand tighter. "Are you challenging my authority, Miss Zachariah?"

"Are you challenging mine, Professor Umbridge?"

"Boys and girls! It appears as though Miss Zachariah has lost her head. The Golden Child lost of her perfection. Do not listen to her lies. It is a distraction for the task at hand we have. She has already taken her O.W.L.s and her N.E.W.T.s"

"What does that have to do with anything? You're being implacable! You daft ninny!"

"ENOUGH! Detention for both of you, Mr. Potter and Miss Zachariah. See me after class."

**After Last Class of the Day…**

The rest of my classes went so far so good. Divination is the most fun I've had all day. Blaise is in there too with a bunch of Slytherins. Thank Merlin I have Hermione with me. I've made a bunch of new friends that overlook my recent publicity. I've met a somewhat nice Slytherin in charms. Her name is Astoria Greengrass. The blonde didn't talk much at first but eventually we found a few things in common. I'd say we're being civil. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I walk down the corridor near the Northern Courtyard.

"How was your first day Seraphenia?" Harry asks.

"Very interesting. I'm not use to being inside all day. I feel so tired already," I say.

"Don't doze off too soon. You have to report to that old hag Umbridge," Ron says. I glare at him.

"Thank you for reminding me Ron. My punishment isn't for another half an hour. After Harry."

"That woman is completely off her nut," Hermione steps in. "Are you sure there is nothing you or your mother can do? At all?"

"The only thing I can do is flex power and report back. From there, my mom can just talk to Fudge. It is his decision after that. Unless…sometimes a minister can be overruled by another if he isn't doing his job as minister. Then your ministry would have to vote to have temporary control until the next elections or a new minister is appointed. That's never happened—"

Harry stops walking and so do we. I stand behind him to see what he's looking at. "Looks like Malfoy has a new plaything," Ron says. Draco, Blaise, and a bunch of other Slytherins are taunting a small blonde boy no higher than 5 ft 2. Blaise holds a camera above his head.

"Where are the professors when you need them?" I ask disgusted. "That poor kid."

"Oh him? That's Colin Creevey. That's been going on for three years," 'Mione says.

"Well someone has to stop them. It's mad!"

"It's Malfoy," Harry says.

I've already done one stupidly brave thing today, why not do another. My hand digs in my bag for my wand. I grip it firmly in hand. "Hold my things Ron," I say.

"If you don't make it, can I keep Pip?" Ron asks.

"No."

"Date your sister? Chutney not Kellie. I think she'd be more off the leash."

"No. I'll pretend you didn't say that. Get your head out of the gutter."

"Can I have your inheritance?"

"Ron! I'm coming back without so much as a scratch. You can have my toast at breakfast tomorrow."

"Make it a box of Every Flavour Beans and your desert for the next to weeks and we have a deal."

"I get a half. No end pieces if it's pie."

"…Deal."

Hermione huffs. "Ronald! Don't encourage her! Sera! Are you mental? Colin's a nice guy and all but this is Malfoy and Zabini. And look," he nods to them. "He has Goyle, Crabbe, Parkinson, Pucey, and who knows what else. You are literally walking into a snake pit!"

"Been there, done that. I've got detention on the first day with an evil old cat lady. The day can't get worse from a few cowardly Slytherins. I'll be fine."

I hand Ron my bag and recite spells incase I need them in my head. I take a deep breath and climb the bench to the courtyard.

**A/N: OOH! My first cliffhanger. Next is the first interaction for yummy Draco Malfoy and Seraphenia. And a bit of Blaise in there too.**

**Been away for a while. Had tons of school work but school ends in about five or six weeks and then SUMMER!**

**I don't know how I feel exactly about the beginning of the chapter. It might not be dark enough. Let me know!**

**I know exactly what the box is…or should I say what is inside! And I wonder what Draco has up his sleeve…I know that too! Tara Cain is holding a secret too… and Luna will be in this too hopefully soon.**

**Try and guess what's in the box with a review!**

**HINT: It is in this chapter! Have fun thinking and reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone that left a review/alerted/favored this story! Please review. Not only does it inspire me to write more but I like hearing what you think. :) It's going to get really complicated soon. The mystery behind Harry and Sera is going to come out. This chapter could be a clue! **

**Chapter Four: Ticking Clocks and Mirrors.**

**Malfoy Manor**

Narcissa Malfoy had seen a lot over her years. Had witnessed her husband torture and kill numerous amounts of people, seen her sister Bellatrix become the Dark Lord's right hand, watched painfully as her other sister Andromeda marry a filthy muggle, and her house become headquarters for Death Eaters. But even those events couldn't quite top what she was seeing at this exact moment.

Lucius Malfoy had asked her to fetch a roll of parchment for him from his private quarters. Naturally she obeyed. She had ventured to his office with curiosity. He had never allowed her in there alone or sometimes at all. That was one room that had to remain for him, only him, and the occasional fellow Death Eater meeting. Narcissa found the parchment he asked for sitting on top of the others. Next to the rolls was a traveling pensieve and a small vile resting beside it. Intrigued that she would probably never have the chance to enter the room again, Narcissa opened the vile and poured the vile into the pensieve. She dumped her head in and watched.

_Lily Potter sat down next to one of her oldest friends on the rickety bench in a Muggle Park in London. She held her small baby in her arms and rocked him carefully. The other woman was a tall blonde woman with the purest blue eyes and perfect golden blonde hair. She was the direct opposite of Lily. She had grown up with a prominent pureblood Wizarding family behind her. She was eccentric, a loud mouth, and sometimes snobbish, but Lily saw pass the flaws. She saw a woman who was vulnerable, a little scared, struggled to keep up her reputation, and overall, a human being._

_Lily stood out amongst the other women in her circle. But Tara Zachariah, nee Caine, hardly left her one true friend out of the loop. Especially now that they had business to discuss that could hinder their relationship forever. Tara always had a hard time dealing with the truth. But now was the time. They had to act before it got too far to fix._

"_You have to come to terms with it," Lily said. "Tara you can't keep putting this off. What about when they are older? Keeping this a secret is out of the question."_

_Tara tightened her hold on her small daughter. "I'm not trying to keep any secrets. I'm just asking you to see reason!" she hissed._

"_I am seeing reason Tara."_

"_No you are not. You don't even know if this is true. It's happened only a few times on record and they were iffy to begin with. I won't put Seraphenia through that. And you shouldn't with Harry."_

_Lily leaned over to her friend. "Don't you want to know if there is a connection between them? I went into Knockturn Alley last week."_

"_James let you go alone?" Tara asked. She had heard about the dangers in that Alley. She wouldn't want to go there alone._

"_Not exactly. I didn't tell him I was going. But I did find something worth reading. It was a book in Borgin and Burkes."_

"_You bought it?"_

"_No. I ripped the page out the book."_

_Tara stiffed a smile. "That doesn't sound like the Lily Evans Potter I know; sneaking away from her husband to venture off into dark alley ways, stealing pages from books. James is going to forbid you from hanging out with me."_

_Lily moved Harry to her other arm and dug in her purse for the page and showed it to Tara, waiting for her to take it. "And what the hell is this?"_

_Lily sighed. "Proof you are making the wrong decision."_

_Tara put her daughter in the Muggle stroller. She strapped her in safely and snatched the old parchment from her friend. Tara unfolded it and scoffed. The parchment was an uneven tear from the book. She read quietly._

_**Separated Before Birth.**_

_**It's only been recorded with official ministry documents one time, but twins who are born to two different mothers can happen literally at least once in a lifetime. The first record of the Separated Twins concept was in England 1779, when the Wizarding world was going through a rough patch. Purebloods, half-bloods, and Mudbloods alike were being hunted by Muggle Witch hunters. A woman by the name of Gretchen Donaldson had two male twins. In order to avoid her children's death, she extracted their soul from their bodies in an extinct purification process that hadn't been done for centuries. It was depicted that if the soul of a person could be saved from perish they could live again in the future. It is the possibility that they could be born to the same mother and father, a person close by to them, or to have a complete new set of parents and family years ahead in time. It is unknown how long the souls could have waited for a new birth.**_

_**This method hasn't been proven with any research. They process seems to be more unlawful and darker than that of creating one horcruxes. The last known person to try and achieve a successful separation was a pureblood witch Antonia Keller, nee Rhodes, the late wife of pureblood wizard Douglas Keller, her second husband. **_

_**Lady Keller's first husband is not documented with the ministry. But sources had said she spent a great deal of time around the future Dark Lord, Tom Marvolo Riddle, circa 1943. In December, twins, one boy, and one girl, were born to Antonia; before her marriage to Douglas Keller that following October. A year later, the Dark Lord began his rise, the Keller family manor was ransacked and both spouses were killed. The children were reportedly found dead with the symptoms of the soul extraction.**_

_Tara didn't want to believe it. Sure, the parchment ended at the aged edges, but it did explain a lot. Why Harry and Seraphenia were so drawn to each other. Why her daughter protected him and he her. Why they looked so uncanny similar. With a frustrated sigh, Tara slammed the parchment on the bench, startling Lily._

"_That could mean anything! You take me for a fool Lily Potter. I won't stand for it any longer!" Tara shouted. Lily took out another parchment._

"_Please Tara. Look at this. It's the Keller family tree. It goes all the way back to Antonia's great-great-grandmother. Douglas' too, just look," Lily pleaded._

_Tara snatched the parchment more violently than the first time._

_**Angelique Jane Harmon (nee Fitzman) & Otis Freeman Harmon **_

_**!**_

_**!**_

_**!**_

_**Felice Margaret Rhodes (nee Harmon) & Walter Patrick Rhodes Christabella Marion Keller (nee Pavers) & Douglas Jacob Keller**_

_** ! !**_

_**! ! **_

_**! !**_

_**Percival Giles Rhodes & Antonia Eleanor Riddle (nee Rhodes) - Douglas Jacob Keller **_

_** !**_

_** !**_

_** !**_

_** Christabella Felice Keller & Archard Giles Keller (Riddle) **_

"_It all fits together Tara," Lily said._

_Tara stood up roughly. "Stay away from me Lily! Don't come near my family EVER again!"_

Narcissa raised her head from the pensieve. She gasped for breath. It couldn't be possible! No. Lily Potter had meant something else, she had to have been.

"Mother of Merlin," Narcissa whispered.

They had to find that prophecy. And quick. Then she wondered if he knew.

!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!

Colin Creevey had seen a lot of fights in his years as a Muggle. And from the moment he saw Seraphenia Zachariah come to his rescue, he knew it would be good. It'd finally put that Malfoy in his place. She had higher status than Malfoy. She'd tell him what's what.

Seraphenia was thinking an entirely different mentality. No sooner than she jumped over the bench, she had the feeling in her stomach of climbing back over it. What was she thinking? Making a deal with Ron of all people. She should have asked for the whole desert three times a week. The next thought was how she was going to save Colin Creevey from the clutches of a few Slytherins. And keep out of Blaise's way. She couldn't ask them to politely leave him alone. It needed force and a strong fist. So when her feet stopped right in front of a grinning Draco and Blaise pushing the poor boy between them she got her valor to use stupidly for the second time that day.

Seraphenia put her hand in front of Colin, stopping him from being pushed to Blaise. "Hey! Leave him alone. What is wrong with you? He's just a fourth year. Pick on someone your own size," she said. The group of Slytherins stared at her aimlessly before breaking out in laughs.

"Oi! Malfoy the American is trying to stand up for the Mudblood!" Goyle said laughing. Seraphenia refrained from showing them the satisfaction of making her fear show. She stood her ground defiantly against them. Draco could see the nervousness in her as her throat moved and a slight blush covered her neck. He then grabbed Colin by the back of his neck. The small boy whimpered.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly are you going to do about it? Lie my ears off? Get your mummy? Your little boyfriend and I were just having a little fun. Isn't that right, Mudblood?" Draco smirked proudly.

"Colin, get over here," Sera ordered.

Colin shook his head 'no' in fear of getting his neck broken by Slytherin's Prince. "No it's okay. I'm fine. We were just having fun. No big deal," he said.

"See. We were just having fun. Now leave if you know what's good for you," Draco growled.

"Was I talking to you? No. Colin, mind your P's and Q's and get over here now. I'm trying to help you."

Colin shook his head again. Sera wanted to kick something hard. The boy was obviously crazy if he wanted to be beaten bloody by a bunch of no good Slytherins. People she was more than willing to give the benefit of the doubt to yesterday. Now she wasn't so sure. She should have listened to Hermione. The girl was extremely bright than people give her credit for. In front of her, Draco let out a rumbling growl deep in his chest. He pushed Colin to Blaise and stepped directly in Seraphenia's personal space. She took in a sharp breath and her foot snapped on a delicate twig.

"You better watch who your speaking to, you filthy little traitor. A mouth like that will end you in the worst of situations. Leave the sappiness at that shitty country of yours, because I am in charge here. And you will bow to your superior," Draco said.

"My superior? Who are you to give orders?"

Sera thought of a lot of hexes she could conjure but she couldn't reach for her wand. Her arm was stuck in place and wouldn't move an inch. It was like she was paralyzed. Her mouth filled with cotton. Sera searched his face for any faults in his words. Her eyes hooked on to his. Silver much like his father's, however, Draco had light blue specks around the edge. A softer appeal if he fixed his face that way. Or smiled. Draco angrily grabbed her wrist. His grip was crushing her but she refused to give him the satisfaction of moaning in pain. Seraphenia tried to pull her arm but he was too strong.

"Merlin! Are you mad? Let go of me you nutcase!" she yelled. Draco forcefully pulled her towards him. She fell against his chest clumsily.

Draco leaned down to her level. "What would dear ol' Voldemort think if he saw his favorite pet in such a position, hmm?" he whispered.

Sera's heart raced. If he didn't let go and fast, she'd end up doing something she'd regret. She struggled to break free only to get pulled closer to him. Seraphenia tried to control herself the best she could. The beast inside her was telling her to just kill him like any other demigod would. She tried to push the thoughts to the very back of her mind. But she couldn't control her gnawing hunger. Her other hand wrapped tightly on his upper arm that held her and she let herself lose all control. The warmth she felt was immensely satisfying. Seraphenia hadn't felt this in so long since the Muggle hospital with Blaise. Her eyes poured into his like the Imperious curse, commanding him to give everything over to her.

Blaise wasn't worried at first when Seraphenia did her freaky demigod thing. The wanker did deserve to be put in his place for once. However, it was when he saw her eyes become pure coal black and let her powers take over.

_That shouldn't be happening. She should be able to control her powers by now…_ Blaise thought. _Unless she's still on that potion her mother makes her take. Why? Doesn't she know it will kill her?_

Blaise quickly stepped to them and pushed them away from each other. Her eyes turned back to the normal blue. Draco slumped down to the ground out of breath. Seraphenia blinked a few times and looked down realization hitting her at what she'd done. The Slytherins, with their mouths hanging open, took a step back. The crowd that had surrounded stepped back too.

"Come on Colin," she said. Colin scurried beside her fast, picking up his camera and books. They walked to the spot Harry, Ron, and Hermione occupied. Colin nodded politely and scampered off.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted excitedly. "What did you do? Can you show me?"

"No," Seraphenia said. She took her bag and books from Ron, who couldn't get the goofy smile off his face.

"I hope you know you could have gotten in serious trouble," Hermione said with a frown. Sera shrugged not caring. Deep down she knew she was wrong. Not by saving Colin but by letting her powers take over the way they did. She could have exposed herself more than she had.

"I don't know what came over me. We met for a hot second outside of Dumbledore's office yesterday and he seemed kind of nice. Now I'm not so sure."

"The day Malfoy is nice, will be when Ron contains his appetite," Harry said. "I guess it wasn't all so bad, Malfoy deserved all of it. For a minute I forgot that I had detention with Umbridge…which I should get going to right now. I'll see you guys later." Harry turned in the other direction and left.

"I should go too. See you in the common room," Seraphenia said. She looked nervously between Hermione and Ron. Taking a deep breath to control more cravings, she walked in the opposite direction of Harry.

**A While Later Outside of Umbridge's Classroom…**

That was the closest I've been to killing someone. Dad said it happens every once in a while. And about two or three of those once in a while occurrences, you kill. He didn't say if the kill was painless or not. I couldn't stomach it to ask. I'm a monster. Maybe the ministry is right. I could have killed Malfoy. Then what am I going to do? My father's package sits in my lap, waiting to be unwrapped. I don't know what's stopping me. Maybe it's because I know this has everything to do with what is going on back home. Dad wouldn't just send a package by using an Auror. Joel didn't give any hint as to what was inside. I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. It could be either. I play with the rope string keeping the parchment in place. I pull the rope and un-wrap the box. It's made of old wood. I guess it really was urgent if mom didn't stop him to get a better box.

Umbridge's classroom door bursts open so fast the knob hits the wall and flies back. The back of Harry's head is walking away angrily. He pushes two first years out of his way.

"Harry!" I shout. He doesn't stop. He doesn't even look back. I rub my forehead right on my birthmark. It is warm and it itches. That has never happened before. I can feel emptiness inside me and a pull to go follow Harry. I hadn't felt like that this morning.

"Miss Zachariah! How lovely of you to join me this afternoon. Why don't you come inside? You are right on time for today's activities," Umbridge says. She is holding her wand in her hand, tapping it against the other palm. I roll my eyes and stand up regretfully. I open my bag and drop the box in. Umbridge walks back in the classroom and I follow her. The room is dark and eerie now that classes are over for the day. I can't say its hell exactly because I've been to hell with my father for a business deal with Hades. It looked much better than this.

Umbridge…there is something about her that just doesn't sit right with me. She's up to something. I follow her up the stairs in front of the classroom. She unlocks the door with her wand. The entire office is a sickly pink. The walls are covered in a pictures of cats. Each one is meowing every so often and staring at me as I moved. A desk and chair are already set up from Harry's detention. I drop my things and sit down in the chair. Umbridge goes to her drawer and takes out a sheet of parchment. With a twisted smile, she hands it to me. I don't take it. I stare at her hard and cold. She lets it fall on the desk. My hand reaches for my quill.

"No, no I have a special quill that you will be using for today. You are going to write me lines Miss Zachariah with a special quill of mine," she says. I watch her claws pick up a quill from the goblet on her desk. I take it. "Now, I want you to write, 'I know what you are'."

My heart stops. What game is she playing at? Does she know about me? My forehead gets warm again. I fight to scratch it in front of her. My mouth goes numb and my breathing gets hard. I close my eyes to keep focus. All I can see is Harry.

"Are you alright dear?" Umbridge asks. I nod to get her off my back.

"Umm, how many times exactly do I…write this?"

"Well, let's say for as long as it takes for the message to sink in."

"You didn't give me any ink. I can't write without ink."

"Oh, you won't be needing any ink."

I hold the quill in my hand. It's really heavy. I push it down on the parchment and begin the first line.

_I know what you are._

_I know what you are._

_I know what you are._

_I know what you are._

I flex my hand. I sharp stinging pain erupts in my skin. My hand becomes paralyzed. I look at the back of my hand. The words _'I know what you are' _etch into my skin in tiny little red cuts. I struggle to breathe. My eyes go to Umbridge who is stirring her tea with a spoon with a smirk. The words look like I was branded with the words. I muffle a scream knowing it will only get worse.

"That's it dear. Please continue," Umbridge says. She sips her tea loudly. My jaw drops at the awe of her.

"You are _insane_," I grit out. Umbridge simply shrugs her shoulders. "You just wait till my mother hears about this. You'll be out of the ministry before you could bark."

"Speak a word and I talk. You are no secret to me Miss Zachariah. And you won't remain one for too much longer. We all know how the Daily Prophet can spin a story."

My head snaps up at her words. She must know who the leak is if she knows of me. And if she knows of me then she wouldn't hesitate to let loose the Dementors on Harry. Umbridge is part of the problem. She can't wait a minute to sell out her fellow wizards for a few extra galleons.

"You are in on it then? Your one of them," I say.

"One of what?" Umbridge innocently asks.

"Don't act daft. You can't fool me. You know about the leak in the ministry because you are part of it."

"I have no idea—who gave you the right to ask questions—"

"You've been giving information over to Voldemort because you are one of them. You are a Death Eater—" Umbridge leaps from behind the desk.

Umbridge points her wand in my face. She wraps her hand in my hair and pulls hard. "You _dare_ to utter those words girl. You stupid, little MUTT," she spits. "You are mistaken—"

"LIAR!"

Umbridge backhands me.

"LISTEN TO ME!" she yells. The tip of her wand drives into my chin like she's going to attack. "People like you deserve to die. People like you deserve nothing but punishment and death. I can't wait to see the day you grovel and beg for mercy. Now, do we have a deal? My silence, for yours?"

"GO TO HELL!"

"I won't hesitate to use an Unforgivable on you; favorably the Cruciatus Curse. Do we have a deal?"

I want to snap that wand of hers in two and slap the living daylights out of her. I think about it all the time. Losing control, I mean. More than what happened with Malfoy earlier. What it would feel like to just snap and never look back. Give myself fully to my God half. With Malfoy I think I knew what I was doing. Part of me wanted to stop and the other part couldn't care less if I bolted through that thin line. He was so nice yesterday. It was different than what I normally deal with. I guess I didn't see the full picture. He's nothing like Jack.

"…Yes…" I whisper. The grip she has on my hair weakens and she sets my chin free.

"Well then, I'll see you tomorrow dear," she says. I get to my feet and wobble before I find my balance. My hand aches from the air. I pick up my bag and my books and walk to the door. "Take care of that hand dear."

I open the door stronger than I anticipated and slam it shut equally as hard. I wipe my eyes with my good hand. I look over the classroom. To think I have to come back here tomorrow. It sickens me. I quickly jog down the stairs, run pass the desks and out into the hallway. There isn't anyone around because it's so late in the afternoon. For once I actually want to keep it that way. I just want to get back to the common room as fast as I can without anyone noticing me.

I feel embarrassed and worse than ever. The fact that everyday for the rest of the school year I have to look into the eyes of that devil knowing she has something that will get me killed, hanging over my head. I have to act like nothing is wrong. How many secrets has she willingly given over? If it was made public that my wand had shot out the Killing Curse I'd be sent straight to Caldecott, regardless if it was at Voldemort or not. Turning a corner, I collide with another student. The smell is familiar. Fresh rain and expensive aftershave. Zabini.

"Hey! Watch it!" he shouts. I jump from the unexpected loudness. He takes hold of my hand and I flinch. I raise my head to try and meet his. "Oh, it's you."

I sigh. "Please Blaise. Not today alright. I understand if you want me to stay far, far away from you, I get it okay," I say.

"What? You scared I'll tell your little secret? It never crossed my mind you'd take me for a traitor. Some of us know how to keep promises," he snorts.

"What the hell do you want from me Blaise? To admit I lied to you of my blood? So you can feel better for having fallen for someone lesser than yourself? That's preposterous."

"Don't be so naïve Seraphenia—" his gaze travels down to my butchered skin. His thumb rubs soft circles and then he pushes the sleeve revealing the cuts. "What happened?" he growls low. "Did, did someone do this to you?"

"It's not any of your business Blaise. It's nothing." Blaise holds my arm in front of my face.

"That is not 'nothing' Zachariah. Who did this to you? Why can't you just tell me?"

"It's not your problem to fix Blaise. Leave me alone. Stay away from me and I'll do the same thing to you, alright? Don't bring this up again." I sniff my nose and run away.

**Slytherin Common Room**

Draco was pissed. Never had anyone threatened him the way that little bitch did. He knew from the moment she wrapped that hand around his neck he knew that she was a Muttling. He saw it in her eyes. Pure evil. One minute they were blue, the next they were black. She could have killed him if Blaise hadn't stepped in when he did. Draco rubbed at his arm, still able to feel her hands squeezing the life out of him. He let her get too close.

_Bloody hell did the mutt have a grip _he thought. His mind wandered back to the DADA class that morning. He studied her plump arse when she walked down the aisle. It rounded out her skirt nicely. He stifled a laugh as he remembered what Nott had said at breakfast.

_Slinky little undergarments in Slytherin green._

Draco scowled. Just because she had a lust-worthy body didn't mean she was any less beneath him. The little bitch didn't deserve to be looked at. She outsmarted him, and no one outsmarts a Malfoy. He tried to pry her mind and it backfired. How could that be possible? He was more than able to perform Legilimency and gain a break in his victims' minds. Not this time. He couldn't slip through a crack. The boundary was so thick he overworked his mind trying to get in.

_She must know Occlumency._

Draco picked up a snake statue from its table and threw it against the wall. It shattered into pieces and sprinkled dust on the floor. He had to figure out more. His father owled him early in the morning. Draco had by Christmas to set the Dark Lord's plan in place. He snorted. It was simple on his part. All he had to do was make her defenseless, find out anything she knew, and trap her. Phase one of the plan was almost complete. He had to find her alone and—

"Merlin, mate! What's got your flower bed in a twist?"

Draco spun around sharply finding Nott, Blaise, Goyle, and Crabbe standing at the entrance to the common room.

"Fuck off, Nott," Draco growled.

Theo stepped down into the common room. He ran his hand through his light brown hair. He stroked himself with a sick smirk. "I will. I can finally test my 'minister's daughter in an empty classroom' fantasy. Against the board, on the table, fifteen different positions—"

"Okay Nott we get it. You want to shag her. However I don't think you'd be enough man for her," Blaise piped in. He hadn't meant to come across so bluntly, but it was enough to get Draco's attention. Blaise cursed himself for his second outburst. He was doing fine in his goal of staying away from Seraphenia until he bumped into her. And his heart wrenched when he saw she was hurt. No doubt it was from Umbridge. Not even a spiteful Slytherin would dare cause harm other than verbal to someone so close to the ministry. They'd be sent straight to Azkaban. Draco, once again, kept record of Blaise's random outbursts. They stared each other down, battling for the dominant aura in the room.

"What and you are?" Nott laughed snootily before he continued, "What's the matter with you Zabini? First romancing Muggles, now defending Goody Gryffindor? TWICE! In one day! What? Does she make your robes tight?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at what Blaise's response would be. "Absolutely not," Blaise answered, still staring Draco down. He knew what his friend was trying to do. Find a point in him that was weak so he would give up anything about his relationship with her. "All I'm saying is that you couldn't please her. She is an American after all. You know how they are. Complain all the time and are never satisfied."

"The only one who knows how to please is me," Draco said. He saw Blaise's eyes get hard at his tested words. His stance changed entirely. It was more defensive than when he walked in. Prepared to fight. "Zabini! I need a word. The rest of you leave."

"Oi! Malfoy! You better watch—" Goyle began.

"Is that backtalk I presume? I asked you to leave as an order. The next time will be a threat."

The three Slytherins left without protest, not wanting to get the wrath of their leader. Blaise moved from his spot to sit on the dark green leather couch in the middle of the room. He put his feet up on the table and stretched out. Draco sat on the opposite couch. He crossed his legs and let his right arm wrap around the top of the couch. Both boys knew what was being put on the table through their eyes silently.

A business deal.

Blaise pointed his wand at the broken statue, his eyes never leaving Draco's. "_Reparo_." The statue put itself back together again.

"If you're done playing house-elf Zabini, we have some matters to discuss," Draco said annoyed by the obvious stalling.

Blaise pretended not to understand. "Matters? Of what sort?"

"What's your relationship with Zachariah?"

It was a perfectly understandable question. Blaise didn't want to answer. When he and Draco were like this, they weren't friends. They were enemies. One trying to remain his place at the top and the other was trying to get a piece of the real estate. No answer that Blaise would give would satisfy him. Unless it was the answer he wanted, and he was not going to give it to him that easily.

"Zacharias Smith? No association. Can't stand the wanker. Who do you take me for Draco? Potter? I don't lower myself to be around Hufflepuffs."

"That's cute Blaise. You know the Zachariah I'm speaking of," Draco challenged. "The one you refer to as being a Muggle. And come on, we both can clearly see she isn't a Muggle. Far, far, from it in fact."

Blaise crossed his arms over his chest protectively. He moved a bit checking if his wand was nearby in case any funny business was done. "What's it to you? You've seen my dream. Invaded my privacy. You've already put two and two together. What more do you want?"

"How'd the two of you end up there? And don't bother not telling me, I'll read your mind later anyway."

Blaise rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She was so hurt that healers could not repair all the inflictions. Her mother gave her a fake name and sent her to the same hospital my aunt volunteered us at. It was just by coincidence. I didn't know she was a witch until I kind of accidently performed magic to help her feelings and she admitted she was a witch. It worked out for the best in that situation. Is that all you want? Good."

Blaise stood up from the couch and began to the door.

"What I want is her."

Five simple words made him stop. Gave a chill up his spine. Blaise turned back around. Draco was smirking that all too proud smirk. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me Zabini. Back off. I call claim, right here, right now."

"Then you know. Of her being…"

"A filthy mutt? Figured it out when she tried to kill me."

Blaise snorted. "What makes you think I want her?"

Draco laughed loudly. On the outside he was playing it to the tee to throw Blaise off. On the inside he was ripping his hair out in frustration. He knew Blaise would put up a fight in letting him near his pride and joy. He didn't prepare for Blaise to not back down. In truth, Draco wanted the little Mutt for more than just the purpose of handing her over to his father and then wrapped with a bow to the Dark Lord. He wanted her to himself for a while. He was intrigued by her. Not to mention Potter and her were already joined at the hip after one day. Something was up with the two of them. And if the other half of his plan worked, she'd be his by the end of the week.

"Does it matter what you think? I want her. That is all that matters. Do you think because you have feelings for her that I'm going to stop? I will never stop."

"What do you want her for?" Blaise asked. He was on the defensive again. Draco was crazy if he thought he was going to roll over and let him have Sera. Sure, he might not want to be around her but he still cared. His feelings were still there somewhere as much as he hated to admit it.

"None of your business."

"And what makes you think I'll just hand her over willingly?"

"Oh come off it Zabini! You actually think you'd be able to have a relationship with her? In the open? HA! Try again. I'll make it easy for you, take her off your hands—a favor. Take your 'claim' off of her and I won't blab of your little tryst—"

"I could care less of what people say about me—"

"To the Dark Lord," Draco finished.

Blaise felt everything get hot then cold. This was what he was afraid of. Letting the Dark Lord know about what went on between them would put a target on both him and Sera more than there already is. The things he would do to her…

"You have the nerve," Blaise said. "You're just doing your father's bidding like his little—"

"Take the deal Zabini. Don't make a fool of yourself than you already are. We both know you're father is on thin ice. She'll be out of your hair before you know it. I plan on handing her over to him. Do as I ask and you won't go along with her."

"No. No, I'm not selling out my friend. She gave me my trust and I'm keeping it," Blaise defended.

"Fifty galleons," Draco offered flatly. "I will give you fifty galleons for her. You need the money anyway."

Blaise contemplated the offer. It would be smart to take it. The Zabini's weren't as close to the Dark Lord's inner circle as the Malfoy's, being his right hand house-elves practically. His father would be doomed for sure. Plus he did need the money. He was cut off significantly from his monthly allowance for the stint with Seraphenia. Fifty galleons wasn't half of the cut, but it could go a long way. "What else?"

"Satisfaction of keeping your pride Zabini. We both know your father would be out like a candle. From now on you stay away from her unless I am with you. If I catch you infiltrating on my territory I will be using force. You've been warned. A Malfoy always gets what he wants."

**Seraphenia**

I don't know how far I ran before I collapsed on the steps leading to Hagrid's house. It's peaceful for the most part. The woods create a serene atmosphere. It's not fair. You think you're fine, that sweeping all your problems under the rug will make it go away. All your secrets you want to keep kept. They are never safe unless you're dead. I lift the sleeve of my shirt up. Merlin, I think it's gotten worse. The bleeding has slowed down some. The words are becoming black though.

Seeing the burn from Umbridge standing out so bad is making me physically ill.

"Seraphenia?"

I turn to see Harry. His face is distressed more than it was at breakfast. His robes are undone sloppily with his white button un-tucked from his pants and his tie hanging lose around his neck. I can tell he's been worrying. His hand is hidden behind his back.

"Hi Harry. What are you doing out here?" I ask.

"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be in detention?"

"I just got out of mine. Um…do you, want to sit. I'm not going back to the common room for a while. Need a breather."

"I'm not going to talk. If you want someone to complain to—"

"No complaining. Just sitting. No talking. Promise."

Harry nods politely. He walks over to a tree and dumps his things there then proceeds to sit down next to me. He covers his hand with the sleeve of his shirt. He must have gotten the same 'punishment' as I did. The wind blows gently in the trees. I wish I could go hide in the forest and never come out sometimes. Life would be so much easier if I could stay away from people I could hurt. I can see it when my family is around me; their distrust and embarrassment of me. Mother shows it all the time. It's no secret that she wishes I were different.

"Harry? I'm going to break my promise. I want to ask you something. You don't have to answer if you don't want to…how—how do you deal with it? The stares I mean. Having people think you're losing your mind." He doesn't answer. I don't blame him for not wanting to. I don't think I would answer if he asked me either. He trusts Ron and Hermione more than he will ever trust me. I don't trust me anymore. Not when I'm going around scaring people half to death, even if it was Malfoy.

"I don't deal with it. I ignore it. I have nothing to prove to them. I know what I saw and that's that," Harry says as he turns to me. "Just because you're the minister's daughter doesn't mean that you are immune. If anything it makes you more vulnerable."

"I've learned that the hard way. Nice how Riddle ruins everyone's lives with a wave of his wand."

"I thought you would be scared of saying his name."

I turn to Harry. "I stopped being scared a long time ago, with this, this battle. I'm not afraid of saying his name Harry. It's about time I start. And to honest, I'm not scared of him, just his actions. He's just like us. A little twisted, but just like us. Deep inside, the same fears, emotions, all of it. He's just a little more crazy than the average human."

"How can you say that Seraphenia?" Harry asks. "He is nothing like us! Do you know how many people he has killed? The evil he has created? Innocent people are dead! So I'm sorry if I can't see it from your point of view. He killed my parents, and that's not forgivable."

Harry and I sit quietly listening to the leaves on the trees. I touch my hand on top of his. He doesn't pull away. I take it completely in mine. His fingers relax their grip on the sleeve covering his hand. I push it up further to his elbow. I can see the cuts in the words, _'I must not tell lies'._ I run my fingers over the cuts. He takes in a sharp breath.

"Did Umbridge do this to you Harry?" I ask. I already know the answer, but I want to keep him talking. It might take his mind off of his worries. Harry pulls away from me and tucks his hands inside his cloak.

"It's nothing Seraphenia. Leave it alone," he says. I scoot closer to him.

"She gave me one too." I roll up my bloody sleeve and show him. He grimaces. "I don't think we are going to be the only one she gives these to."

"What do you want to do? It's not like we can report it to Dumbledore. Every time I try to speak with him he acts as if I don't exist. Just leave this alone. It will all blow over."

"I wasn't saying I was going to tell anyone Harry. You think you're the only life she can ruin? I was just making a statement. It wouldn't matter if I said anything or not. It'd be considered a lie."

I take Harry's arm in my lap. My fingers graze a straight scar on his arm. "Is this from the tournament last year?" I ask softly. Harry nods. He doesn't move away though. "Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you sorted out your feelings."

Harry stays quiet for a long time. His hand reaches from under his robe and grips mine. "It was a portkey," he says under his breath.

"Huh?"

"The trophy was a portkey. Viktor Krum was bewitched and was going after Cedric. I helped him."

"Cedric?"

"Yeah; he wanted me to take the trophy. As a thanks for helping him. I suggested that we both take it. It took us to a cemetery. Wormtail killed Cedric on Voldemort's orders. I was cut with a knife. My blood brought him back to his human form. It's my fault Cedric is dead."

"You can't blame yourself forever Harry. I'll try, if you try. It's not healthy. You know, Greyback got me. I was out on the deck and he pretty much cornered me. I can sometimes do wandless magic so I swatted him but not before he ripped a chunk of skin off my arm. I had nightmares for weeks. I guess what I'm saying is…we all blame ourselves for something. If you talk to someone who is going through the same thing, then maybe you won't feel as alone Harry."

Harry's hand begins to shake in mine. "Harry? Are you alright?" I ask. I touch the back of my hand to his forehead. It's insanely hot. "Harry?" I push his shoulder and he tips over on the steps. His eyes are tightly shut and he's groaning in pain. I struggle to keep his head in place in case he chokes on his tongue. I push his now sweat ridden hair off his head.

"Help!" I shout. "Anyone! Please! HELP!" Harry's scar catches my attention. I trace it with my fingers. My mind goes blank, leaving my body behind…

**Inside Harry's head…**

_**Voldemort is here. I can feel it. So is Cedric. I can see his dead body lying on the ground. He's so pale. Harry is restrained by the statue on the tomb stone. The scenery changes to dark clouds all around. Voldemort is saying something. I can't make it out. All I can hear is 'Harry'. He is slowly turning in circles. Something inside me ignites like a white hot fire. Voldemort stops his taunting long enough to stare directly into my direction.**_

I blink my eyes rapidly. I can't believe what I just saw. What did I see? A memory or…How long has this been going on for? I tap Harry's cheek lightly. "Harry! Wake up."

It was too real to be a memory. The way he looked right at me was like he could see me in the flesh. "Harry?" I try again. Harry grunts loudly in pain. His eyes still closed tight.

My mouth opens involuntary. It's like I'm possessed. I say something, but I can't hear what I'm saying. It sounds like muffled words but in another language. Harry's eyes snap open and he shoots straight up, gasping for air. My mouth automatically stops moving and clamps shut. Harry stands up clumsily. He pulls his wand from his robes and points it at me.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" he asks. I stand up too.

"What do you mean 'who the bloody hell are you?'? I'm Sera. You should really put that wand down before you hurt yourself."

"I don't trust people that can see in my head," he says.

"See into your head…? Was he—that wasn't a memory? I was in your head?"

"You should know. You were there. And no it was not a memory." Harry puts his wand back in his robes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. How long has this been going on for?" I ask.

"None of your business," Harry says as he stands up and starts trudging up the steps. I pick up my things and follow him. I find myself having to run to catch up with him. He walks into a corridor bustling with students. Getting into step beside him I put my hand on his shoulder and turn him forcefully to me.

"Don't get snippy with me Potter." Harry rolls his eyes. "It's important that I know this because…I think he saw me."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was in your head, unbeknownst to me of course, something happened. I don't know what, but…" I lower my head to his and whisper, "Whatever Voldemort saw, it scared him off. It was powerful enough to threaten him to make him want to leave. And if it had something to do with me, than I'm fucked. I'm sorry if you think I violated your privacy but I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't even know I was doing it. It might have been worth it because it got you actually saying something worth listening to, no matter how rude it was when you pointed your wand at me."

"We can talk in the common room. More private," Harry says.

I nod in agreement. He starts walking and the other students move aside for him. At any other time it would be great to have people move aside for you. I follow Harry past the great hall to the staircase. I still haven't gotten the hang of moving stairs, so I make sure to stay close behind him. We get to the seventh floor in front of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asks.

"Hippogriff," Harry says. The Fat Lady opens her portrait and we walk in. No one says two words to us as we cross the room to the boy's dorms.

"Hey, why are we going to your room?" I pull on Harry's robe before he heads up the stairs.

"You might get bombarded with brownnosers. Most tend to not bother with a conversation other than 'hi', 'bye', and 'how's your day?'"

"Oh," I mumble. Harry and I go up the twisted, stone staircase to the fifth floor. We walk into the empty room. It looks the same as the girls' dorm, but without the creepy shrine. Harry takes off his robe and sits on his bed. I take my robe off and dump it on the bed with my bag to Harry's right and start to sit.

"You don't want to sit there," Harry says.

"Why?" I ask.

"That's Seamus' bed."

"Oh. That is a problem." I pick my things up and move to the bed on Harry's left and sit. "Let me guess; this must be Ron's area."

"How did you know?"

"There are crumbs all over his sheets. That really is a bad habit, eating in bed…so…we're here…" Harry scratches his scar. I feel a tingle on my forehead were my lightening bolt and scratch. "Does that always happen? The scratching?"

"No. Not all the time. I've gotten used to it over the years. Why are you scratching?"

I had forgotten I hadn't stopped. "It just tingled. You know, regular itches." I put my hand down and sit underneath it. "If you are uncomfortable with me—"

"I'm not uncomfortable," Harry says. "You're my friend. I feel I can confide with you what I can't with Ron or Hermione. They wouldn't understand."

"Have you tried?"

"It's not that they don't give support or believe me. It'd just be nice to have someone similar around."

"That's nice…so when did these…dreams start?" I ask. Harry shrugs.

"I don't know. Not too long after the tournament. At first it was just like nightmares but then, it was more real. I could feel the danger. When you said, 'I think he saw me', what did you mean by that?"

"I don't know exactly. It was like—when you fainted, I was tapping your cheek, to get you to wake. When I touched your scar, it was like my mind was empty. It was uncontrollable." I get up and start pacing. "And then I was speaking this language! It felt like my skin was stinging but I felt free from restraining myself all the time. It was enlivening. Have you ever felt like that?"

Harry shrugs his shoulders. "No. Not by speaking another—language. Do you remember what you said?"

I shake my head. "No. I heard this muffling that sounded like the words I wanted to say but, oh, I don't know. This is the first time that's happened." I lean against the bed post and cross my arms. "Harry, are you sure that was not a memory?"

Harry sighs loudly. "Yes. I'm absolutely sure."

"I think—god, this is going to sound crazy, when I touched your scar, I could feel what you felt. I don't have any idea how, but, it was like I was watching in the third person and feeling in the first."

"Strange," Harry mumbles.

"Very. Harry—" footsteps thunder up the steps and Seamus comes in laughing with Dean Thomas. They stop at the door quietly. Seamus frowns.

"Plotting Potter?" Seamus provokes. "And wit' the Ministry Bint no less."

"Seamus," Dean warns.

"I thought you'd do better than that Plotter," Seamus scoffs.

"Sod off Finnegan!" Harry yells. "Leave Seraphenia out of this and mind your business."

"Oh look Dean," Seamus mocks. "He called her '_Seraphenia_'. What love birds. Comin' up wit' a plan ta'—" I get my wand from my bag and point it at the two of them. Dean takes a step back. Seamus takes a step forward. "You wouldn't risk it," he mocks.

"Try me. You already called me a whore," I say annoyed.

"I called you a bint, you stupid—"

"Seamus! That's enough. Let's go. I think I heard Neville calling," Dean says. I mouth 'Thank you' to him. He nods and him and Seamus leave. I go over to Ron's bed again and brush away the crumbs to the floor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks.

"I haven't been called the Ministry Bint before," I laugh. Harry snorts. "Back to the matter at hand; You-Know-Who must know that something different changed when he invaded your thoughts. He wouldn't have backed down. Merlin, this day just gets stranger and stranger. First my father sends me some box and then now I can read minds."

"Your father sent you a box?" Harry asks interested.

"Yeah. I haven't bothered to open it yet. I was going to but you busted out of Umbridge's classroom and it was my turn." I take out the box from dad and toss it to Harry. He examines it closely. "You can do the honors if you want," I say as I lean back on Ron's bed. I hear the rustling of parchment and the smell of wood. Harry let's out a laugh. "What's so funny Potter?"

"Nothing it's just—you had nothing to worry about. It looks like a family heirloom—" he says before I sit up and cut him off with, "A what?" Harry hands me the box. I eagerly snatch it and look inside. Sitting comfortably on hay is a brass stained pocket watch. Huh? I search through the hay and find a small parchment. My father's familiar small all capital letter handwriting in the center. I read aloud,

"_Dear my darling Seraphenia,_

_I knew this time would one day come once again. I wish it wouldn't be so soon. There are many questions I know you have and answers I wish to share with you. But the time has come for me to let the stars align. _

_Your mother wishes to keep you out of this. I knew it from the moment we had you back in our arms what your destiny would be. I trust you and know you will succeed. Daughter you are most ready to fulfill the deed set out for you. _

_Most importantly, follow your heart and your wisdom. You are ready. Do not let the watch out of your sight. The __**TIME**__ will be the key to __**MAP**__ out the __**FUTURE**__. Use them well._

_With all my love the world can offer,_

_Klaus._

_P.S. Do not discard of the wrapping parchment. And don't mind your mother. She's very stressed out at the moment. She's sending that new coat to you from Fashion Witch for Christmas. She picked it out herself. She's trying, just give her time."_

Harry snorts. "Sounds like a goose chase to me," he says.

"I could care less than a knut about a coat. Dad would never lead me on a goose chase. I don't think he would. If it wasn't important, he wouldn't have sent it. Pepperwood did say it was urgent. But that could mean anything. I have to save the wrappings."

"It's useless."

"I know. Then he says 'The time will be the key to map out the future.' Time, map, and future are in all capital letters, bold, and underlined."

"The whole letter is in capital letters."

"Thank you captain obvious. Merlin! It makes no sense! Why on earth would he give me a fucking clock? I wish he would just tell me what he means. It'd be so much easier in life if I was muggle."

"You've been around magic for fifteen years. Do you really think that?"

"…oh shut up Potter. Let's go. It's time for dinner and I'm looking forward to eating Ron's desert."

We leave the beds and walk down the stairs to the common room. Fred and George Weasley are standing at the bulletin board. "You two are up to something," I say. I don't think I've met any two other people that care less about finding loopholes in rules than Fred and George. They remind me of Laurie. Make me feel a little more at home here.

They both smirk and cross their arms. "Well, well, well, Fred. Look at who we have here," George says.

"Isn't it Saint Potter and his trusty sidekick Goody Gryffindor," Fred answers.

I furrow my eyebrows. "Goody Gryffindor?"

"We heard you two," Fred points at Harry and I, "Got detention with Umbridge."

"It's rude to point," I say.

"I can see why this one got a detention. Smart mouth of this one Fred," George says. "But Harry, we are so disappointed in you."

"Us? What exactly are you doing? Hanging around an empty common room?" Harry asks. I go up to the board and laugh.

**"Gallons of Galleons!**

**Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?**

** Like to earn a little extra gold?**

** Contact Fred and George Weasley,**

** Gryffindor Common room,**

** For simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs**

**(WE REGRET THAT ALL WORK IS UNDERTAKEN AT APPLICANT'S OWN RISK)"**

"What are you selling exactly?" I ask with a laugh.

"Skiving Snackboxes," Fred and George say together.

"A skiving what? Never mind. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."

The four of us exit the room through the portrait. Walking down the staircase, I can feel eyes digging into my back. And the whispers start up again. If Harry has been through the ringer for the last four years than I can too. Harry. In the short amount of time that I've known him, I feel complete in a way that I have not felt in a long time. There are things I can share with him that I can't with anyone else. I suppose it is a good thing. On the other hand, it does scare me that I let my guard down with him today. It put me in a lot of danger being in his mind at the same time Voldemort was present. What is even stranger than seeing in his mind is that I didn't try to kill him or take advantage like a normal demigod would have…?

The minute we approach the great hall, Fred and George run to the Ravenclaw table to sell their product. Harry and I make our way to the Gryffindor table. Ron is talking with Dean about Puddlemere United. Ginny is sitting in a small circle with Neville, Colin, and Parvati Patil. Hermione is, as usual, reading. I plop down next to Hermione and rest my head on her shoulder.

"What a day," I mumble. Harry sits next to Ron on the other side.

Dinner flew by faster than expected. I had to thumb wrestle Ron for his apple pie since he 'forgot' about our bet. I won. He insisted that we arm wrestle just to make sure it was fair. I won that too. I ate both pieces of my pie very slowly with sound effects.

Ginny looks over Hermione's shoulder. "'Mione, what are you reading?"

Hermione snorts. "It's called a book. You should try it sometime."

"I read plenty," Ron argues.

"Copying homework doesn't count Ron," I point out.

"Harry and I are appalled at you. We always do our own—what is that?"

Hermione, Ginny, and I turn our heads. A origami bird is hovering behind us. It lands right in front of Ginny. She unfolds the parchment. She crumples it up angrily. "What is it Gin?" Ron asks.

"It's just those stupid snakes again. You know how they are. No big deal," she mumbles. Harry reaches across the table and un-crumples it.

"'Potter, tell your girlfriend to stop fighting your fights for you'. Oh look Seraphenia they were kind enough to leave a drawing."

Harry slides the letter to me. The drawing is of Harry and me sitting in desks in front of Umbridge. She is yelling at us and Harry stands up and faints. I get up and pick him up in my arms, and we both fly away on a broom. How touching. "You would think their drawing would be more professional. Add a bit of color. Purebloods only do the best right?"

I can tell the drawing got under Harry's skin. He is at his boiling point now. I don't even want to look over in Blaise's direction because I know he was in on it. By the time dinner is over, I got Harry to laugh again. The joke was lame but I think that's why it worked. We are leaving the great hall to go back to our dorms. Lavender tries to squeeze her way in on me and Hermione, but Ginny gives her this dangerous look.

When we get to our dorms, Lavender fusses over to the side of her bed. She rips down her homemade shrine and shoves it underneath the bed. With a final kick, she stomps out of the room and down the stairs.

"Was it something I said?" I ask playfully. Hermione laughs. Atticus stretches on my bed and curls into a ball. I go over to him and pet behind his ears. "I know Atticus. She is a bit loopy."

"Loopy doesn't cover half of it," Ginny says annoyed. "What happened to your arm?"

"My what?"

"Your arm. I can't believe I haven't noticed it before. Your shirt is all bloody."

"Oh. That. It's nothing Gin."

Ginny comes to me and rather roughly pushes up my sleeve. "That's not 'nothing' Sera. When did this happen?" Hermione steps beside Ginny. Her face has a scowl of disapproval. "Was it a Slytherin?" she asks.

I rub the tears away in my eyes. "No. It wasn't a Slytherin. They don't have it in them to cross the line between tormenting and torture. Felt almost as bad as a Crutio."

"You know, Harry's been hiding his hands too. He's cut himself off from everyone."

"I'm sure Harry will open up. Give him some time." I open my trunk and take out my pajamas. I change out of my robes and into them quickly. I climb on the bed and get underneath the sheets. I watch form the comfort of my bed Ginny and Hermione talk to each other. They share a few laughs before Ginny leaves to her own dorm. All the other girls except for Lavender are gently nodding off. Atticus jumps off the bed and runs after Crookshanks. Hermione gets in bed and opens a thick book.

"What are you reading?" I ask. Hermione turns a page.

"American Sorcery, I'm already on the Salem Witch Trials. It's very interesting. Have you read it?"

"I tried. I got to page ten before switching books."

"What could be more interesting than sorcery?"

"Dark Magic through the Ages."

Hermione clears her throat before looking at me carefully. "Why would you read a book like that?"

I lean back into my pillows. "I've learned it's better to be prepared than go in blind."

Hermione closes the book and leans on her elbow in my direction. "Are you sure you saw _him_?"

"If you're calling me a liar—"

"No! I'm not. It's just…he's been back, according to Harry, for two months. Around June. What happened to you was in March. Are you extremely sure about what you saw?"

My eyes fill with tears. So much has gone wrong. I desperately want to make it right. Maybe mom wouldn't be getting the heat from her own ministry. "…To be honest, sometimes I can't tell what's real or not anymore Hermione. It's like I know what I saw but I'm not sure that I trust myself. And mom telling me to keep quiet confused me even more. I'm not making it any easier for her. After everything with Blaise—"

Hermione slams the book and sits up. "Blaise? Blaise Zabini? Slytherin Blaise Zabini?" she asks. I nod slowly. "You know Zabini?" I nod again. "How?"

"His aunt isn't in with all that pureblood crap. She's actually very nice. Anyway, she had her children and Blaise for the summer. They were volunteering at the Muggle hospital I was in. He was my companion, you know, like a friend to talk to if you are there long term. Blaise hated being there. He's not a very caring person until he can trust you enough." I blush at the memory of what happened between us. "We had a friendship."

Hermione must have noticed my cheeks go from peach to bright red because she gasped. "Did you—you and him?" she asks.

"We only kissed a couple of times and after all those times, I felt guilty. Technically I'm still with Jack. Jack might not have been as passionate, or creative, or funny, but he had a good heart. And I still have some feelings for him. Sure I liked him, but with Blaise I never knew it could be so… zealous and unpredictable. Not to long after, Blaise pushed me away. I thought I wouldn't have to see him ever again. I guess I spoke too soon. Please don't tell Harry. Or Ron. Or Anyone. Even Ginny. No one would understand Hermione."

"I won't. I promise," she says. Atticus hisses at the stairs. Hermione and I look over to see Lavender fuming. Her fists are in tight balls and her face has a look of pain.

"Get your fucking cat before I kick it," she commands.

"Don't you touch my cat! Step over him. Obviously _you_ are in his way," I say. Lavender shoves her nose in the air and tip toes around a ready to pounce Atticus. She makes a run for her bed and hops in, closing the curtains around her. Hermione and I laugh.

"Weren't you just friends yesterday?" Hermione asks trying to contain her laughter.

"It's all Ginny's fault. If she hadn't have scared her away," I say sarcastically. We talk for not to much longer before we're both out like candles.

_The hallway is long. Black tiles cover the walls. Where the hell am I? I turn to my right seeing Harry. And to his right is me. Huh? Isn't this my dream? I wave my hand in front of Harry. He doesn't blink an eye. My hand goes through his head. This must be Harry's dream. Why am I inside Harry's head again?_

"_Harry?" I ask. He doesn't answer. My dream self walks to the end of the hallway. She raises her wand and lights the area. The hallway opens to a room. Harry follows her. She's holding her hand out to him. The light only surrounds them. They disappear in the other room. I run after them. I take my wand from my pocket._

"_Lumos."_

_Ah, hell. The room is filled with shelves of…orbs. This must be the Department of Mysteries. Why is Harry dreaming about this? This could go on for miles. Harry and I are standing close together. He whispers something to her. She nods and goes to the right. Harry to the left. I decide to go after myself. It would be easier. I stay behind enough to see her and not be too close. All I can see is the light from her wand. She stops in front of a shelf and lifts her wand at the orbs. I creep up beside her to observe. It's like I'm, she, is looking for something. A balled up parchment is in her hands. _

_She unfolds it. I move behind her to look over her shoulder. It's a bunch of scribbles and lines, not exactly clear. The person who drew it must have been in a rush. The circles might be orbs. One is circled multiple times and numbered 228976109. What does that mean? The breaking of glass throws her off. She points her wand defensively to me...or what's behind me. Her eyes widen in fear. Harry runs up to her and grabs her wrist, pulling her away. I face the other direction, but no one is there. Turning back, I can faintly see their backs running further and further away. I run to catch up with them. I hear a scream._

"_Lumos."_

_Harry is on the floor grunting in pain. I'm leaning over him trying to keep his head in place. He's having one of those dreams again. Why am I, she, not stopping it like before? I squat down next to her. Her lips are moving. It sounds like the same language from earlier. And her eyes are hazy. Could it the Imperio Curse? No. I'm holding his hand. Easing the pain. I wonder…_

_I reach out to touch Harry's head and I ghost through again._

"_Come on Harry. Let me in."_

_His body relaxes and he stops struggling. He must be about to wake up. My fingers feel the sweat on his skin. I touch his scar and my birthmark at the same time. I'm thrown into whatever he's seeing now that stopped his dream. It's Voldemort again. He's saying that he's coming for him. The white light appears again and Voldemort's presence is cast away._

I shoot up in bed, struggling to capture my breath. My body is covered in sweat. I can't stop trembling. What the hell was that? Was that really a dream or was it a prediction? A hot liquid trickles down my forehead. I wipe away the sweat, seeing blood on my pajama sleeves. I reach over to the bedside table and take the mirror resting next to my brush. Holding the mirror to my face, my birthmark is glowing dimly and bleeding slowly. I slump down into the bed harshly. I wonder if Harry is reacting the same way to this.

This is going to be a long night.


End file.
